Volume
by Streaks of Hail
Summary: A collection of one-shots, drabbles and random stories about the team and world of SHIELD. Prompts and ideas are welcomed. Latest Chapter: In which Skye asks the team what they would name their children and gets surprising answers.
1. Roads

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own any parts of SHIELD, or Marvel, or anything associated with Marvel.

**CHAPTER SUMMARY: **During a long drive, Skye promises herself never to take a road trip with the team again. That is, until the drive back.

**AUTHORS NOTE: **Okay, so I know I already have a lot of stories on my plate, but this one is just a little side project for when I am bored or have some spare time. Yes, I will take requests and prompts, but I can't guarantee that I'll actually do them.

Alright, so for the first little one-shot, I wanted something light and fluffy that would contain the whole team. This was the result, although I'm not sure that I liked how it turned out. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

**CHAPTER ONE: ROAD**

"We should have just taken the Bus," Skye grumbled, propping her chin on her hand and leaning against the window.

"It was your idea," Ward reminded, turning to look at her. They were in a small minivan, one with the SHIELD logo on the side. It was nice enough, with a clean interior and nice seats. Of course, SHIELD only offered the best for their man Coulson, right? The man in question was driving, with May in shotgun. Skye and Ward were back to back with the two, and across from them was FitzSimmons.

They'd brought various drinks and snacks, but that didn't help to cure the boredom. _Is this what it feels like to go on a family road trip? I'm almost glad I was orphaned. Almost._

"Yeah, but when I said road-trip, I didn't intend it to be a five hour trip!" Skye exclaimed, twisting to roll her eyes at Ward.

"It isn't all bad," Simmons piped up, leaning forward to butt into the conversation. "We might get the chance to do some sight-seeing, or maybe team bonding?"

Skye seriously doubted that they would do much sight-seeing in the dusty orange desert that they were currently travelling through.

"Simmons is right," Coulson nodded, looking relaxed despite the fact that he was responsible for driving the team. "We can all get to know each other a bit more."

Skye groaned, reaching forward to grab another soda from the cooler. She popped the lid open, straightening back up. "Okay then. Let's play a game." She lifted her head up just in time to see Simmons frown.

"Wait, Skye. I still remember the last time you tried to make us play a game."

"Yeah," Fitz added suddenly, looking slightly indignant. "I ended up in a closet for three hours." Skye laughed, suddenly recalling the event. "It wasn't funny!"

"I should've locked Simmons in there with you," Skye said meaningfully, blinking innocently at the two scientists. Fitz looked slightly uncomfortable, the tips of his ears turning pink. Simmons remained blissfully unaware, tilting her head back in a cheerful laugh.

"Oh, that would have been a chore."

"It wouldn't have been a chore," Fitz frowned, turning to Simmons suddenly.

"Yes it would. I can almost imagine it.." And just like that, the pair were bickering good-naturedly. Skye rolled her eyes, instead turning to exchange a glance with Ward. She found him staring out the window, and she reached out a hand to nudge him.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Nothing," Ward shrugged, lifting his eyebrows up. "Not that there's anything to do in a car anyway. Are we there yet?"

"Hey," Coulson jutted in suddenly. "We're a top-secret agency, not a bunch of middle-school kids."

"Aw," Skye leaned forward to tease Ward, a playful smirk stretching across her features. "Do you wanna stop and get a colouring book?" And there it was, his rare smile. To Coulson she added, "I'm sure you and May would be good parents, AC."

"I don't handle children," May said shortly.

"No," Skye agreed solemnly, nodding her head. "You handle fully grown enemies."

"Sometimes, they're more or less the same thing," Coulson mused. Skye gripped onto her seat as the car swerved to the right sharply. Something clattered and crashed in the back.

"Fitz! I told you to make sure it was strapped in properly," Simmons accused, throwing behind various glances to the back.

"It _was_ strapped in properly," Fitz retorted, also twisting around to get a better look. "I'm jus' being framed, is all."

"It's okay, there's a gas station up ahead anyway. We can stop, get some things organised." Coulson was right, and when Skye peered out the window she could make out the figure of a dusty building.

"You think they'll actually have gas in there?" She was doubtful, the place barely looked like it was inhabited.

"Let's hope so, else we're staying the night here."

...

It turned out that the place was in fact, in use. It was dusty, that was for sure. Skye highly doubted that the place was safe, but it looked good enough to fuel up. The place was owned by an elderly couple. They seemed excited to meet new people, and Skye almost found it heartwarming. She wouldn't have thought that they'd have gotten a lot of customers.

Ward looked uncomfortable, as Coulson and May filled up the vehicle. Fitz and Simmons were chatting amiably to the couple. Skye sauntered over to him, delving her hands in her jacket pockets. "C'mon, let's go in."

"You want to go inside?"

Skye lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. "Why not?" At his doubtful look, she rolled her eyes, reaching out to tug on his arm. "The dust won't kill you, Ward. Neither will the little old grandparents. Lighten up a bit! All you do is complain. Besides, it'll be fun."

It was with a grudging look that Ward began to move, finally accepting with a nod and a sigh.

"Fine."

Skye grinned triumphantly, already moving off to the store entrance. "Yes! Come on, let's go raid the store."

...

It wasn't long before they were back on the road. May was driving now, and Coulson was frowning at a map. Skye twisted to peer over the seat shoulder at him.

"You know this is the modern age, right? Ever heard of a GPS?"

Coulsom didn't look up, only twisting the map around to peer at it from a different angle. "Yeah, except the signal's patchy around here. And someone forgot to pack the standby GPS."

Skye paused suddenly, a half-smile frozen in place. She cringed inwardly. "Uh, yeah. Whoops."

"If you let me up front, I can wire the internal system to-"

"It's fine, Fitz," Coulson brushed it off, obviously not paying much attention. "I haven't looked at one of these things in forever. Just hope that it's not upside down."

Fitz looked doubtful, but he settled back down and reached for a drink. Skye let out another huff as the van descended into silence once again.

"You guys are boring, you know that?" When all she got was exasperated eye rolls and accepting nods, she leaned forward. "We should do something. You know, team bonding and all that."

"What about ISpy?" Simmons suggested innocently, and Skye groaned playfully.

"I haven't played ISpy in ten years, Simmons. I'm not going to start now. Besides, can you imagine May playing ISpy?" Skye grinned at the sound of collective laughter. She couldn't quite tell, but she thought she even saw a glimmer of a smile from May in the front mirror. "This is the worst road trip ever. Please remind me never to travel with you guys again."

"We live on a plane," Coulson reminded dutifully.

"That's different." Skye waved it off. "There, we have wi-fi."

"Then let's go over our mission again," Ward offered. Skye pulled a face at him, but obeyed, pulling the facts out quickly. They had been drilled into her so many times, it was hard to forget.

"Me and Coulson will go in and distract them. Ward and May will guard and fight their way through, and FitzSimmons will work their magic," she droned, her tone the one of a bored school student.

"Oh, let's not talk about the mission for once," Simmons said impatiently. "We have a full three hours left to plan for that."

"Where are we going, exactly?" Fitz questioned, from his slumped position on his seat next to Simmons.

"We're heading to one of the cabins that they have out here," Coulson informed, twisting his head to look at the others. "They don't know it's us, of course. We're listed as a group of people getting together to mourn the funeral of a man, so don't got blabbing about holidays or secret missions."

"What are our cover names?" Ward didn't look particularly surprised, nor bored. As always, he was what she liked to call a 'tin man'.

"May is known as Wanda Luis, I'm Daniel Herring, Skye is Lily Peterson. Ward, you're known as John Berlin, Fitz, you're Oscar Peters, and Simmons, you are Eden Bell."

"I can live with Lily," Skye mused. She twisted to give Simmons a sly look. "You got that, Simmons?"

The scientist shifted uncomfortably. "I think so." Jemma Simmons was now known amongst the team as a terrible liar, flustering and giving the whole game away. It was safe to say that it was obvious why she had not passed her field assessment.

"So, Daniel," Skye smirked at Coulson, leaning back in her seat. She resisted the heavy urge to kick up her feet, instead diverting her attention to the senior agent. "Do we have any interesting backstories?"

Coulson only shrugged, not seeming particularly bothered. "Why don't you make up your own?"

Skye grinned suddenly, leaning forward. Her eyes glittered in mischief.

Simmons looked slightly suspicious of the hacker. "Skye.."

"Don't worry," Skye assured Simmons, rolling her eyes at her. "I just got an idea, that's all. How about we make up backstories for each other?"

"Backstories?" Ward looked doubtful, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah," Skye nodded as if it was obvious. "It'll be fun. Like.. Let's start with May."

"Skye."

"Don't worry, May. Hmm.. Wanda Luis, an only child with divorced parents," Skye intentionally made her voice overly theatrical, grinning at the others.

Fitz laughed, suddenly seeming more attracted to the idea. Skye smiled encouragingly at him. "She was sour to her mum for breaking up the happy family."

"See?" Skye cheered enthusiastically. "It's not all bad. Besides, it's better than sitting in a car in silence."

Ward shook his head, turning back to the window. "You can count me out."

"Okay then, grumpy. Me and FitzSimmons will have fun, right?"

Simmons looked slightly uncertain, but both had smiles on their faces.

"Anyway, let's continue. Hmm.. Wanda got married later on, but then.."

The afternoon was soon wasted away by a chorus of laughs, jokes and ridculous story telling. Ward softened up eventually, and they even had May joining in a few times, something Skye was still inwardly congratulating herself on.

"Oh, and let's not forget about Eden's crazy sister, huh?" Simmons laughed, and suddenly Skye was struck with curiosity. "Hey Simmons, do you have any siblings?"

Simmons sobered up considerably, although there were still wisps of a smile. "One. She.. she died of leukaemia a while ago."

"Oh." Skye's smile dropped, and she immediately felt guilty that she had probed into private stuff. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Simmons smiled weakly. "I've gotten over it. Life's not perfect."

It was after that little hiccup that all the jokes and playful banter returned to normal. The conversation switched from Ward and Fitz's 'bromance' (Skye) to the effects of various diseases (FitzSimmons) to Corvettes (Coulson).

It was descending into evening when they were finally forced to stop talking. The sky was streaked with pink and pale orange, the beautiful colours of dusk.

"We're here," Coulson announced. The vehicle was winding through a small town, neatly kept but very quiet. It had a nice atmosphere, but it was so small it almost felt like a ghost town. May pulled up at a small wooden cabin, and Skye peered out the window carefully at it.

"This is where we're staying? It doesn't look big enough to house a hedgehog."

"It's only for the night," Ward reminded. He reached over and slid open the door, jumping out and hauling the bags with him. Skye hopped out next, blinking rapidly as a gust of hot air hit her. She was getting pins and needles from the long ride. She stretched out her arms and legs, stifling a yawn.

"Ugh, at least that's over, fun as it was."

Coulson passed her a bag, giving her a smile. "Just you wait until the trip back."


	2. It Was Nice, Wasn't It?

**AUTHORS NOTE: **Okay, so this chapter was uploaded super quickly. That's because I've actually had this one floating around for a while now, and I've finally fished it out. Basically, it's an AU where Grant Ward never had the guts to throw FitzSimmoms into the ocean. This is actually sadder than I intended. Perhaps it was my trying to turn Fitz's possible condition into a good thing. I hope you enjoy, I actually really loved writing this.

Also, I'd just like to thank all the people who favourited or followed. It means the world to me!

**SUMMARY: **In a world where Ward never had the guts to drop that pod into the ocean, Fitz and Simmons are never quite the same.

**CHAPTER TWO: It Was Nice, Wasn't It?**

"Are you scared?"

"No."

Jemma looks over at Fitz carefully, slightly surprised. "Why not?"

"Ward will figure things out. They'll come and save us." His voice sounds so confident that Simmons feels her heart twist. She turns to him after a moment. He's looking at her, but his eyes aren't really focused.

"Fitz.."

"He's our friend." That's all he says, and Simmons can't bear to argue anymore, so instead she turns back to the door, standing up to study it. The attempt would be useless, she knows. The door was barred from the outside, and Ward had made it as sturdy as he could.

"I'm sorry for dragging you out into the field," she says suddenly. Fitz doesn't even look surprised, although he shook his head slowly.

"It's not your fault." Simmons exchanges a small smile with Fitz, but she can see the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. She shifts until she's sitting next to Fitz, nudging him with her shoulder. She's slightly comforted by the gentle rumbling of the Bus as it flew, but fear still curdled in her stomach. What's going to become of them? Of course, they were fine for now, but what about when they landed? They couldn't lock themselves in this little bunker for ever. She doesn't need to be a genius to know how long they can survive without food or water.

"What's wrong?" She might as well pass the time away by figuring out her relationship with Fitz. Ever since the whole Hydra thing, her and Fitz haven't quite been the same. She misses the easy chatter and cheerful bantering.

"Nothing," Fitz mumbles, and Simmons almost rolls her eyes, turning to give him a reprimanding look.

"Fitz.."

"It's just.."

"Ward?" She guesses. It's not an outlandish idea, she's been tossing and turning at night as well.

"Has he been Hydra all this time?" Fitz's voice is uncertain. "What if Garret's brainwashed him?"

Simmons studies him in sympathy, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. "I don't think he's brainwashed," she says softly. It's rather harsh, but she believes it's true. There were no symptoms, nothing to indicate anything but plain betrayal. "But I think he cares. There's a reason we're not floating out on the ocean, right?"

She hopes her gentle smile will help to reassure him, and she's almost disappointed when he doesn't return the gesture.

"Yeah."

"When we get out of here, we're going to talk to the team, okay?" She's not sure what compels her to say that, but she forges on anyway. "We can talk to Coulson, and May. Skye, too." She resists the urge to add Triplett. She knows he's been bitter to the specialist, although she hasn't got a clue why.

"Okay." Fitz's gaze is suddenly flickering with emotion. "Jemma.." He chokes out, but she's already drawn him into a hug. When she pulls away, she scans his features.

"Yes?"

"It's.. nothing." And she knows it's not nothing, but she leans her head on his shoulder and they wait in silence. The gentle hum of the plane engine shakes the floor slightly, but it comforts Jemma. Nothing much happens, although they try and rig up a communications device. It doesn't work, but Simmons hopes that the team had managed to use the tracker to chase down the plane.

...

It's a long time before there's figures outside the door. It's May, and she's never been so relieved to see the Calvary in her life. They find out that they'd missed all the action, that Garret's dead and Ward is captured. Coulson is director, something Simmons can't quite wrap her head around. They're escorted to the Playground and set to the task of rebuilding SHIELD.

Everything erupts into a pile of work and business, and Simmons finds herself seeing the other team members less and less, lost amongst the piles of instructions that she's been set. The young scientist has always been a worker, and the destruction of SHIELD isn't going to change that. She barely sees Fitz anymore, and whenever she does, she comes up with an excuse to get away.

Simmons isn't exactly sure why. He's done nothing wrong, and he knows that. He's been just as busy, but while Simmons is drifting further and further away, Fitz is growing closer, bonding. She notes with a sad smile that while her work efforts soar, she doesn't quite get the same thrill as she used to. She's still a scientist, she still gets excited over various discoveries. But being brilliant is no fun when there's no one to share it with.

Honestly, Simmons doesn't mind. She isn't a stranger to being alone. She still talks to others, brief chatters about the weather and work matters. She watches as Coulson blossoms as a director. As reports flood in about May's incredible skills. Skye's hacker skills, Triplett's easy charisma and smooth lies. Fitz's ingenuity, clever as ever.

She wonders sometimes, if things could have been a little different. Perhaps if she had stopped working so hard. But she would never know, and it was too late to change. So on she went.

...

It's late at night when she properly talks to him again. Simmons is perched in one of the 'special rooms' of the Playground. The room is supposed to be for design sketches and slide shows, but it's hardly ever used. Koenig had rigged up every room to special sceneries. This one has always been her favourite. It shows a beautiful clear starlit night. She likes to pick out the various signs, although she's always scoffed at astrology. Perhaps there was just something magical about stars.

"Still like the stars?" The voice is so soft, she almost jumps. But she doesn't instead nodding, although she knows he can't see her. She knows who it is, of course. Simmons would have to be silly to forget Fitz, no matter the distance between them.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Her voice is breezy, but it's obvious their relationship isn't the same. She's slightly surprised when he sits himself next to her on the floor, but she says nothing about it.

"Yeah." They sit in silence for a long time, their heads tilted up to stare at the ceiling, with it's fake stars. Simmons with her legs tucked against her chest, him leaning back on his palms.

"I miss you." He's so quiet, Simmons almost misses it. She looks over to him, and his expression makes her heart warm. He's so different now, and yet still the same.

She offers him a small smile. "Me too."

"Why did it change?"

"I don't know, Fitz. Everything changes at one point."

"Did we have to change?"

Simmons doesn't reply. She knows that he's watching her for an answer, but she can't answer. Maybe because the answer is no.

"I'm sorry."

She's alarmed then, because she didn't mean for him to blame himself. "Don't be," she tells him. "It was nice, wasn't it? Being friends, I mean."

"The best." She waits while he pauses, most likely gathering his words. "Can't we go back to that?"

"Oh, Fitz," she says, finally turning to him. Guilt twists at her heart, but she tells him the truth with a sad smile. "I don't think so."

...

Jemma Simmons is reassigned the next day.


	3. Nazi

**SUMMARY**: In which each of the team members visit Agent Grant Ward in their make-shift prison.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Okay, so is chapter is also not very fluffy. I really wanted to do it, however, although I'm very iffy on whether I captured the characters essences or not. I felt May and Ward were probably the hardest. Any critique is welcomed, honestly.

Also, as I mentioned earlier, prompts are welcomed, as I'd love to write more, but just haven't really got the brains to come up with good ideas. I'm thinking something fluffy next, what do you think? Also, thank you for all the people who read, favourited or followed. It makes my day.

**CHAPTER THREE: Nazi**

The prison isn't exactly top-notch. It looked like no one had had any time or recourses to get him a proper holding cell. He doesn't care. Agent Grant Ward is too guilty to even think of breaking out. Where would he go, anyway? Back to Hydra? Who knew if they would accept him back. Now that he thinks about it, the only reason he ever joined was because of Garret's influence. There's no such influence now.

Ward spends a lot of his time thinking. There isn't particularly anything interesting to do in a bland room. All that's in the room is a bed, and a door in the corner leading to a bathroom. It's obvious that the room used to be a bedroom, or maybe even a bunker. Spacious compared to the bunkers of the Bus, but strangely it seems more cramped.

He has no clue where he is. He was knocked out upon moving him to the prison - or at least, he thinks it's a prison.

And so Ward spends most of his days thinking. Dreaming. Feeling guilt. No one visits him, apart from that one time - someone who claimed to be a doctor, and his bodyguard. Ward had half hoped that it would be Simmons. He'd known that the idea was stupid, but he hasn't seen the team since that fateful day. He still beats himself up over casting FitzSimmons into the ocean. He hopes they're okay. He knows they probably aren't.

And Skye. She had called him a Nazi. One of the most horrifying things in human history. Could he really be associated with that label? He decides that he can.

What was Grant Ward to do? Nowhere to go. No one to trust. Friends, family. None-existant. Somehow, he has screwed up his life even more than it already was. So he waits. For what, he's not sure.

But it's May that visits him first.

...

They're seated at a table that reminds him of a typical interrogation scene in a movie. Maybe it's an interrogation scene, but it's certainly no movie. May is seated on the other end of the table, her features the picture of a cool composure, but he knows it's anything but that. She hasn't changed a bit since he saw her. She's wearing her classic black leather outfit. Ward is almost positive that she has a knife hiding in her boots. The only difference is the new scars and marks along her neck. She doesn't give any indication that they hurt, but Ward is sure that they're fresh.

"May." He doesn't try to apologise, or grovel. It wouldn't work.

"I punctured your larynx," she states.

Ward inwardly winces at the memory, accompanied with recalling the pain of several nails piercing through his foot. "Yeah. I got that fixed. I thought Simmons would fix it." He's hoping for her answer, hoping for good results.

"Simmons is a biochemist, not a doctor. We wouldn't let her near you."

He snaps his head up to her suddenly, blinking at the fierce warrior. "She's alive?"

"Yes."

"And Fitz," he prompts.

"Alive." He gets cold chills, because although now he knows they're breathing, he isn't sure that they're okay. He opens his mouth, but May's withering glare stops him from enquiring about them any more.

"How's the team?" He tries carefully, watching May for any signs of aggression. His eyes flicker to the guard standing by the door. Ward get's the impression that he's not there to look after May, he's there to restrain her.

"You don't get to ask."

"I'm not sorry." He says impulsively. And then he realises that it's the truth. Ward is not sorry. Garret had helped him in more ways than he could recount, and he had simply repaid the debt. Yes, he felt guilt. Guilt and regret. But he wasn't sorry for his actions. Only the consequences.

"No," May agrees, startling Ward. "You're Hydra."

Ward gets the feeling he won't be seeing her again.

...

"Coulson."

The man's face is grim, but his eyes still hold some resemblance of a sparkle. it's not towards him, of course. He looks weary, and tired, but definitely satisfied. Ward can't help but wonder what he's been up to.

"It's Director Coulson, actually."

Ward raises his eyebrows, staring at the senior agent. So that's why he was tired? "Director?"

"You missed a lot," Coulson mutters by way of explanation, as if that would help Ward in any way.

"Yeah. I got the impression that I did." He knows he shouldn't pry, especially after how his conversation with May went, but he can't help it. He leans back in his chair, eyes focusing on the cuffs that bind his hands together. "How's the team?"

"Alive," Coulson says simply. Ward forces down the feeling of bubbling frustration. Why was no one giving him answers?

"I got that from May."

"You won't get much from anyone else," Coulson warns, his face scarily stern.

"Why?" He genuinely wants to know, although he has the feeling that he already knows the answer.

"We don't humour backstabbers, Ward. Especially not Nazi's."

Great, so now Coulson's joined the Hitler Youth club?

...

The next visitors made Ward's heart swell. Simmons and Triplett. But no Fitz.

"Simmons," he greets. It's supposed to be a friendly gesture, but Simmons only takes a seat at the other end of the table, looking terribly withdrawn and distrustful. Triplett waits by the door, watching with careful eyes. Ward knows that he'll be in trouble if he messes up anything with Simmons.

"Hello Ward," Simmons answers cordially. Her eyes are weary, there are dark circles under them. He feels a jolt of sudden fear, and his thoughts run wild as he imagines the possibilties of Fitz's whereabouts.

"Where's Fitz?" He finally manages to choke up the question. Too bad he doesn't get an answer in return.

They sit in tense silence, with Simmons looking as if she was weighing him up heavily. "Why did you do it?"

Her voice has a tone of defeat, and Ward leans forward on the table. He pretends that he doesn't see her flinch away from him. "You and Fitz were a weakness." When she doesm't respond, he takes it as his cue to continue. "Garret.. he gave me everything. I was in prison, Simmons."

"He broke you out," Simmons countered dully.

"Yeah. He broke me out. But.. he trained me. Like the father I never had. I had to help him. It was a.. sense of loyalty. You understand loyalty, right? You and Fitz." He waits for a nod, but she only sits in silence. "Tell me," he said finally. "If Fitz turned out to be Hydra.. would you follow him? Would you follow him into Hydra?"

"I'd follow him anywhere."

Ward sits back, and he sees that she recognises the point he's trying to make. He almost smiles at her, but then she continues, her tone rising louder with every word.

"But not to Hydra. Not to a group of heartless, cold people. Not to help betray my _friends. _Not to.. to throw them into the ocean-"

"Simmons-"

"-and not to murder. Not to become a cruel, cold-blooded backstabber."

"Where's Fitz?" He blurts out suddenly, because he has to know. He has to justify his actions somehow. He can't do that without knowing if the engineer is okay.

"Fitz is in a coma," Simmons says, her tone thick with a sense of finality. "He won't ever be the same, Ward."

"It was supposed to float," he tells her quietly.

"It didn't."

...

Ward anticipates the last visitor the most. He prepares his words. But she doesn't show up. Not for days after Simmons' visit. A week. Two. A month later, and there's no sign of the young hacker. He begins to think that maybe she had really just gotten over him. And why shouldn't she? He betrayed them all, stabbed them in the back. Fitz was in a coma because of him.

Then one day, he is escorted to what he calls the interrogation room. Even before he walks in, he knows Skye will be sitting down at the desk, waiting for him.

As soon as he sits down, she's loosing a string of swear words at him, and only a warning from one of the soldiers prompts her to stop.

"Nazi," she spits, and Ward holds his hands up in a sign of peace - surrender.

"I'm not a Nazi," he replies calmly. "I was doing my job, Skye."

"Yeah? Well, last time I checked, doing your job didn't mean betraying everyone who trusted you. Doing your job, is being loyal!"

"I _was_ being loyal," Ward retorts, irritation bubbling through. No matter how strong his feelings were for him, she could always rile him up. "Loyal to Hydra. Loyal to you."

"Not me," Skye shakes her head, and his stomach drops suddenly. "Never me. You ripped apart this team, Ward! Do you know what it feels like to have a team meeting now? To be a part of SHIELD? To watch Coulson struggling with rebuilding SHIELD? To see May's anger, to hear Simmons crying? Fitz's cold, cold body?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" She's slamming her hands on the table, and for the first time Ward notices the red around her eyes. Skye's been crying. For him? No. For Coulson's team. The team he left behind. The team he was never a part of, not really.

"Did you ever feel anything, Ward? When you were snooping around our backs, killing people? When you murdered Agent Koenig?"

"Skye.." He attempts to stop her, but his voice is doubtful.

"Tell me. Did you?"

It's a long time before he can pluck up the courage to speak again, but when he does, he's surprised to find that his voice is perfectly clear. "I did. I did, Skye. I'm still a human. I still have feelings."

"I wish you didn't." Her comment surprises him, and he reaches out a hand for her.

"Skye.."

"Don't touch me," she warns. "Don't come near me, I swear."

"I'm sorry," he tries again. It's a hopeless effort, but what else has he got?

"I'm sorry too. Sorry for your cold heart, Agent Ward."


	4. Locked In

**SUMMARY**: Skye and Ward are on a mission when something goes terribly wrong. They're trapped... in a walk in freezer. Oh boy.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **The plot in this particular little story is brought to you by one of the reviews, from a guest. Here's the prompt you suggested, I hope you enjoy it! I must say, this chapter actually really difficult to write. It reminded me sort of _House_, actually. I'm sort of iffy with this chapter, but here you go!

Thanks so much for the positive feedback, everyone! I can't believe I'm already up to the fourth chapter, I haven't updated so rapidly before. It only shows how excited I am for the second season, I suppose.

**CHAPTER FOUR: **Locked In

"May and Simmons, stay on the plane. We don't know who's after us, and you'll need to watch out for us. Skye, Ward, search the facility. _Stay undercover_, do you hear me? We don't want anyone finding out we were here. The place should be empty, but please keep quiet. Fitz, you're with me. We're going down to the cellar, you can set up your equipment down there, right?"

Skye would have stayed to listen, but Ward was already dragging her away from the group. She followed after him with a huff, scouting the house casually as she followed after her SO, who was checking everything thoroughly. They were in some sort of rich man's house. It was probably the home of some famous chef, as there were various clues everywhere and a chefs hat draped on one of the doors. They made their way into the lounge, which was fairly spacious and obviously architecturally designed, with a modern theme.

"I don't know why Coulson's so uptight about this mission," Skye said, watching as Ward pulled open a drawer and rifled through it messily.

"He's got a lot on his plate," Ward replied, shoving the drawer closed and advancing to the next room. Skye drifted after him, peering around the room. It was a more casual living room, cluttered and warm, but it had a more friendly feeling.

"Yeah, I guess," Skye nodded. She moved over to the fireplace, leaning down to study it. "This fireplace hasn't been used in... forever."

"Wow, a hacker noticing those details? I'm impressed. But yeah, it only makes sense. The people who lived here passed away in a car crash a long time ago."

"And no one's inherited the house?"

"The will went missing, supposedly. No one owns the house, because.. who knows what the owners wanted. None of the family can make up their minds about it," Ward shrugged.

Skye straightened back up, peering at the top of the fireplace. Ornaments and picture frames decorated the mantelpiece, and she picked up one, brushing the dust off with her hand. In the picture was a family portrait, one of a warm looking man, a pretty woman and the cutest little girl she had ever seen.

"That's sad."

Ward didn't answer that, instead gesturing to her. "Come on. The kitchen's up next."

"Oh joy." The kitchens were cool. Like, seriously cool. It was like a professional chef's place (which now that she thought of it, made sense) with decor tastefully placed. She let out a light laugh and went to lean on one of the polished stainless steel benches. She found herself staring down at her distorted figure. "This is so cool."

"Don't get used to it. We're just searching the place, and then we're going back down to Coulson, okay?"

Skye rolled her eyes at him. "You're no fun." She grinned suddenly, striding over to one of the doors as her beady eyes picked up something. "Hey look, it's one of these huge walk in freezers. I've only seen them in movies. That's so cool!"

"Skye.."

"Oh come on," Skye hopped into the freezer room, surprised to find that it was still in working order. _Why is the power still on in a house that's practically been abandoned? _She peered out the door at him, holding it open with her fingers. "Don't be a killjoy. How often do you get to explore a mansion? A mansion, Ward." She gave him her most winning smile, and just like she'd hoped, he fell right for it.

She moved aside to give him room to come in. He grumbled, but stepped right to the back of the room with her. The door clicked closed softly behind her, something that she should have seen "See?" She told him innocently, a 'told you so' tone in her voice. "It's not bad to have a little bit of fun, right?"

"We're not supposed to be having fun," Ward reminded. "We're supposed to be working."

"Yeah," Skye grumbled. "I thought working for what's practically the FBI would be more interesting."

Ward sighed in exasperation at her, but only nodded at her, reaching for the door handle. "Let's go, Skye." He reached for the door handle and tugged on it, only for it to rattle uselessly. "Skye.." His voice was low, as if he was fully expecting what was to come next. Skye felt dread sink down to her feet, and she nudged him aside to try the door for herself. It didn't budge.

"This is why you shouldn't listen to me sometimes. Or ever."

...

Skye was glad that she had put on some extra layers for the day, as the freezer was, as the name entailed, freezing. She looked over to Ward, who was sitting across the freezer room from her. Not that that was saying much, the freezer wasn't exactly massive. If she leaned over, she could reach him easily.

"You know, this is the part where you're supposed to lend me your jacket," she joked.

Ward only shook his head at her, smiling faintly. "You're warm enough," he nodded.

"Grant Ward, everybody. Always such a gentleman." That was enough to earn a small smile, and Skye grinned in return. She sighed suddenly, turning to the door. "We've been in here for an hour, Ward. It's already hard enough to talk to you without being forced to. And it's cold."

"Coulson will come soon. They're not going to just fly off without us," Ward reassured. His dark clothes looked strangely out of place in the frosty white freezer, Skye noticed.

"Yeah, I'd hope not. Although who knows, Coulson was pretty sore after I beat him in battleship the other day."

"Battleship?"

"You taught me well," she smiled at him, tightening her jacket around herself.

Suddenly, Ward heaved himself to his feet, making a racket as his jacket brushed against the various storage boxes stacked on the shelves. He extended a hand out to her with an expectant look.

Skye frowned at him, staring at his held out hand. "You want to dance?"

"No, rookie," Ward said patiently, although she could see the familiar tell-tale sign of fond exasperation in his eyes. "We're going to train."

"We're going to train?" Skye questioned him incredulously, staring at him. "Seriously? Now?"

"It's supposed to be a tender gesture, Skye," Ward sighed.

"You suck at being tender," Skye grumbled, but she got to her feet obediently. "Alright then. What's first on Freezer training 101?"

...

They'd finally given up on training. At least they were warmer now, but every time they breathed a puff of clear white air would come out of their mouths. It reminded Skye of the days she had spent at the orphanage, where on especially cold days, all the kids would pretend that they were dragons.

"It's been two hours. How long do they need to realise we're missing?"

"This was your fault in the first place."

"Hey, you followed me in!" Skye snapped her head up suddenly as she thought of an idea. "Ward! We're stupid. Have you tried your communications yet?"

"Yeah. Funnily enough, the reception's not so good in a freezer." Skye's hopes plummeted and she sighed again, pulling up her legs against her chest. Of course Agent Grand Ward had thought of that option already.

"So we're seriously stuck in a freezer. This is not how I wanted to spend my day."

"Strangely enough, me neither."

Just then, the pair heard a familiar voice, muffled but still there, calling for Skye and Ward. "Simmons!" Skye cried, and the two leapt to their feet, banging on the door.

"Simmons! We're in here!"

Soon enough, Simmons was prying open the door, and Skye had never been so happy to see the scientist in her life. She tackled Simmons in a hug. "Thank God!"

Simmons looked bewildered at the two, eyes wide. "How long have you been in here? I should check you over."

"Wait, Simmons-"

The door swung shut with a clang as Simmons moved forward.

"Welcome to the club, Simmons."


	5. Blue Box

**SUMMARY: **In which Skye briefly mentions that she's never watched Doctor Who to FitzSimmons, and it ends with Coulson banning popcorn from the plane.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **A very short, sweet and cheerful one-shot today. Sorry that it's not my best work, but I'm working on a request at the moment and I want to make it good. However, I still wanted something to come out, and so this was born. I hope you enjoy!

**CHAPTER FIVE: Blue Box**

"A TARDIS.. What exactly is a TARDIS?" Skye frowned at the two scientists, leaning forward in the plush chair.

"It's a box that's bigger on the inside, one that can travel through any point in time and space. It stands for-"

"-Time And Relative Dimension In Space."

"And.. what exactly has this got to do with this 'doctor'?" Skye was seriously beginning to regret ever asking about the small blue box that sat in Fitz's bunker.

"_The_ Doctor," Simmons corrected gently, her eyes lit up in the way they did when she was being all clever and sharing information. "He's one of a kind."

"Okay.." Skye shook her head at them both, her eyes crinkled in confusion. Despite her obvious confusion, she still had a small smirk on her lips. It was funny when Fitz and Simmons got excited about something. It seemed to trigger their synchronisation even more than usual, something Skye found freaky but strangely cool. "How do you remember all this stuff? I feel like my brain's exploding already."

"You'd be able to understand if you watched the show," Fitz muttered. Beside him, Simmons brightened suddenly, nudging him with a grin.

"Fitz, you're a genius-"

"-yeah, well, I'm not here for nothing-"

"Why don't we just show Skye _Doctor Who_?"

Skye widened her eyes suddenly, holding her hands up in a mock sign of surrender. "Hey, it's okay. I was just nosy, that's all. You don't have to show me your nerdy show."

But FitzSimmons had set their hearts on it already, Simmons tugging on her jacket enthusiastically and Fitz setting off to find the DVD's in question.

"Come on, you'll love it, Skye," Simmons urged, Skye couldn't turn down FitzSimmon's puppy eyes, and soon she was being dragged off down the plane.

Within moments, they were seated in front of the screen with a large bowl of popcorn - who knows why they'd had popcorn on the plane in the first place - and blankets. Skye waited patiently as the screen flickered on, holding back a smile when Fitz or Simmons pointed out something to her, when something caught her eye.

"_Oh_, he's hot."

"Skye!"

...

To her surprise, Skye enjoyed it more than she had expected. It helped to amuse her when Fitz or Simmons made remarks about the show, often intersecting each other's sentences.

"Wait, so what's that ugly thing?" She leaned forward to stare at the screen, pulling a face at the knobbly creature on screen.

"A dalek," Fitz said, reaching for another large handful of popcorn. Skye would never be able to understand where he stored it all away in his skinny little body.

"Are they those things that shoot lasers? Oh, wait, what's happening?"

"It's ending, Skye," Simmons explained.

"Well. That was a stupid ending."

"It says that it's to be continued," Fitz pointed out, and Skye nodded slowly.

"Oh. That makes sense now."

"So, does Doctor Who make more sense to you now?" Simmons asked earnestly.

"Nope. Still no clue. He's hot though."

"Oh, Skye!"

It was Simmons who started it first, Skye would explain to a very confused Coulson and May. Her and Fitz had only joined in on what would be known from then on as the 'popcorn incident'. It was safe to say, Coulson banned Skye and FitzSimmons from eating popcorn ever again.


	6. What They Want

**SUMMARY: **May is furious, Coulson is grim, Fitz is brave, Simmons is alone, and Skye is scared. It's the final battle, and not everyone makes it out alive.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This chapter actually tore me up to write. I cranked up the sad music, and started typing, and this was the result. Sorry that it's sadder, but I feel like I'm actually better at sadder stuff than fluffy, fuzzy things. I dunno, just my opinion. Try listening to something sad while reading this, it sets the atmosphere a bit more.

**CHAPTER SIX: What They Wanted**

All hell has broken loose.

People are running, screaming, shouting. She doesn't run. Agent Melinda May does not run, not ever, not now. She doesn't know where everyone else is. Probably fighting a battle of their own. It doesn't matter, as long as they're safe. And far away. Best not to let them see what was going to become of her.

She knows she's probably not going to make it out of this battle. It's the last stand. The final battle, the endgame. It's not okay. Dying is not okay. May has seen too much death for a single person. People she's cared for. People she herself has slaughtered. Innocent people. Guilty people. Old and young.

She wants to make it out alive. Despite her cold exterior, that doesn't mean she doesn't have things to look forward to. Things she wants for her future. Perhaps it's just natural instinct, but May is not looking forward to dying. Oh, she'll be gone one day. But now now. Not with the end so near. Not with all the responsibility Coulson had trusted her with.

May pulls a knife from her boot slowly. Melinda May doesn't want to die.

But not everyone gets what they wants. She braces herself for the upcoming battle, and smiles bitterly when a shadow appears in the doorway.

"Hello, Ward."

...

Coulson wasn't someone who gave up easily. Hell, this was essentially his second life. He didn't want to die. Just because he had done it before didn't mean it was any less painful, or terrifying.

He sat in his red Corvette, his hand held tightly on his gun. Who will run SHIELD when he is dead? An absurd question. The truth is, there _is_ no SHIELD when he is dead. When he dies, so does everything he works so hard for. His small, loyal team. Well, loyal to an extent.

His team was brave. Is brave. He refuses to acknowledge that they might be dead, because he knows that they're stronger than that, and he didn't think he could ever forgive Ward if he murders one of his team. They're not really just his team anymore, either. They are his friends. His family. People who he would easily entrust his life to in a heartbeat, given the chance. And he realises that when - _if_, (he refuses to give up easily) - he dies, then his team might possibly be left to clean up his mess.

Coulson feels a glimpse of guilt for dragging his team into inevitable death. Collected, calm May. Sweet, ingenious FitzSimmons. Skye, who had become almost like a daughter to him. Almost. He wasn't quite that old yet. And then he feels stupid. Because he hopes - knows that his team have enjoyed every minute of it, and that they wouldn't give it up for the world.

"Looks like it's just you and me, Lola," he forces a smile for himself, although he can feel his knuckles turning white.

He looks up just in time to catch the movement in his rearview mirror.

...

"Hide!" It's the first thing that he can think of blurting out. It's not brave, or hero-like of him, but he's a coward. Just a scientist, not built to be out in the field. He'd only followed because of Simmons, in reality.

There's gun shots outside, and Fitz suddenly wishes that he was anywhere but the fantastically advanced lab that he and Simmons had been working in. Simmons yells something in return, but everything is too loud to hear her. He stumbles blindly, feeling as if he was underwater, disorientated.

He finds himself in the next room, which was anything but what he had intended. He had meant to join Simmons, but fear and instinct had over-powered him, and know he is sitting cowardly in a safe room while Simmons fights for his life.

It's everything against his instinct when Fitz pushes himself up, surprised to find himself standing rather strongly. There's a noise behind him, and Fitz doesn't dare to turn around. He knows if he turns around, he'll melt and he'll be forced to be a coward again. Fitz doesn't like to be a coward.

"Ward," his voice shakes, but it's surprisingly clear. "Why don't you kill me, Ward?" He waits, squeezes his eyes tight. When nothing comes, he almost loses all of his built up courage. "You can't," he realises, his voice challenging. "You don't want to kill me, do you? Tell me, is Simmons still breathing? Is the team still alive? Tell me, Ward!"

The first blow comes like a thousand punches to the gut.

...

"Hide!"

"Hide where? There's nowhere to hide!" Simmons dives behind a desk, her body trembling in fear. The work she had been performing is scattered all over the floor. An injection needle lies not a feet from her, and she snatches it up with shaking hands. Simmons knows her time has come.

She was a good child. Always followed the rules, did what was expected. Broke the rules when needed. Jemma Simmons was a good person. Had been a good person. She doesn't know.

Simmons isn't scared. At least, she tries to believe she isn't. Because her and Fitz have been through worse. She's not a stranger to the feeling of upcoming doom. The Chitauri virus had taken her fear already, strengthened the promise that no matter what, they'd fix it together.

"Fitz?" Her voice is strained, and high-pitched. She can't breathe when she gets no reply, and there's a faint noise from the next room over, barely heard over the din of firing and yells. Now she's scared. So, so scared. Her mind - her stupid logical mind - is telling her the possibilties. Raking in the percentages. The answer is clear. Simmons is not going to live.

Somehow, Simmons had always known that this was the way she was going to die. Scared, weak and alone. So terribly, terribly alone. There's footsteps behind her, and she spins, swinging her arm with tear-blurred vision and pushing down on the needle.

...

Skye is just waiting for the killing blow. She doesn't know where the rest of the team is, but she prays that they're okay. She doesn't like feeling selfish, but she'd rather not think of them. It's hard to feel sorry for others when someone you thought you loved was pointing a gun at you.

It was stupid. She was stupid, for falling for him in the first place. She'd had dreams of Grant Ward redeeming himself. Again, stupid. He was Hydra, and there was no way around it. He had betrayed the team heavily, and although thankfully the team was still alive, she would never forget Eric Koenig's dead body.

"Ward," she speaks, but her voice is dry and the word is sour in her mouth.

"Skye." His voice isn't particularly malicious, but Skye can only focus on the barrel of the gun that's he's holding.

"Are you going to become like Quinn?" She mocks bitterly, her tone dark. "Shoot me in the stomach, leave me here to bleed to death?"

Ward's face contorts, and she can see the whites of his knuckles as he grips the weapon. "I don't want to hurt you. I wasn't acting when I kissed you."

"Just like you weren't lying when you killed Agent Hand." Ward looks angry for a split second, obviously torn. He opens his mouth, but Skye rushes on quickly, angry tears springing to her eyes. "What's wrong with you, Ward? You're still doing this. Garret. Is. Dead. Dead and never coming back."

His eyes shadow, and she knows she's hit a sore spot. She's playing a dangerous game with a man who has a gun, but she steps forward. "Have you gotten to my team already?" When he doesn't answer, she stares at him. "Where are they, Ward?" He says nothing, but she can see the answer in his eyes. She had known the answer when he stepped into the room. "You're cruel. Didn't you feel anything for them? Nothing for May, who... I don't even want to know what you did. For FitzSimmons, who never did anything wrong? What about Coulson, who took you into the team in the first place?"

"I cared. I cared, Skye. But they were a weakness, and you know it."

Skye laughs, but it's bitter. Dark, dry. "Well then, Agent Ward. Am I a weakness?"

...

Everything comes with a price. A debt. You can escape that debt for a while, but eventually it all catches up to you. There's no escaping.

Simmons was found dead, looking as if she was asleep, with an injection tucked in her hand. Fitz was put into intensive care, bloodied and bruised. He passed away not long after Simmon's funeral.

May will never see out of her left eye. Her right hand won't function normally. Coulson is heavily scarred, and not just on his physical body, either. Skye was left perfectly unharmed, save for various bruises and cuts. Some say she is lucky, but no one can heal a broken soul.

None of it was what they wanted. But people don't always get what they want.


	7. See the World

**SUMMARY: **In which a particular young bio-chemist attempts to persuade a particular young engineer to enter field work.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Okay, I'd just like to say super sorry for the lack of updates recently! It's just been the weekend for me recently, and everything got super busy! I have several prompts which should be coming very shortly, so if you've sent me one, don't think that I've forgotten you! I'm just trying to play catch up and getting these requests done.

Sorry for anyone who doesn't ship FitzSimmons by the way, as this chapter is certainly a FitzSimmons one! Also, what do you guys want more of? Action scenes, fluffy scenes, future fics or backstory, or.. any genre, honestly (But keep it PG, guys)!

Anyway, enjoy this little one I whipped up. Light and friendly, not anything overly serious with a nice, happy ending. Do say if you enjoyed!

**CHAPTER SEVEN: See the World**

"Fitz.. I've been thinking.."

"Yeah?" Simmons turns to find Fitz looking at her intently, and she offers him a small smile in exchange. Strange as it is, she isn't nervous. She supposes that she should be, given what Fitz is like at times, but she's sure that he'll be up for the idea. They were - and always had been - FitzSimmons. One simple little proposal couldn't change that, right?

They're sitting together at one of the local parks. The day is bright, part of the reason why Simmons had dragged Fitz outside in the first place. Normally they would be in the lab preparing for their next brilliant project, but Simmons had felt that the day was too good to pass up. They ended up sitting on one of the large rocks, papers and various books lying around them.

"Ifyouwantedtoenterfieldwork," she rushes out suddenly, internally wincing as Fitz frowns, obviously trying to discern what she said. Simmons had been debating the idea for a while now. Their final year was ending, and they had to do _something_ with their lives. She knew Fitz was perfectly happy with staying in a lab and perhaps even working his way up to a job at Stark Industries. But she simply couldn't do the same. There was _some_ sort of need for her to get out there, to do something with her life. A relentless urge to help others. Simmons would never be able to do that in a plain, old, non-mobile lab.

"You mean... together?" Simmons is starting to get doubts about ever asking him, her heart sinking at his confused expression.

"Yes," she nods eagerly. She notices that he's only half paying attention, the other half intently studying a paper of some sort of model. She leans over and promptly snatches it from him, much to his protest. "Please, Fitz?"

"Field work?" For a resident genius, Fitz is taking an awfully long time to absorb the idea.

"Yes, Fitz. In a mobile lab somewhere. We could enter as a pair, don't you think? FitzSimmons, geniuses _and_ qualified in field expertise. It would be for a good cause. Helping people, gaining experience. You could finally get some recognition!" She nudges him excitedly, feeling her lips tilt into a smile without quite meaning to.

"You're the one who wants to be recognised, not me," Fitz mumbles, and Simmons gives him an apologetic look.

"Oh, I'm sorry Fitz. But you know this is a big opportunity for me! For us."

He attempts to get the paper back, but Simmons sets it behind her with a disapproving look at him.

"It'll be dangerous."

"You'll be fine, Fitz," she reassures, trying desperately to get him to warm up to the idea. Field work is the perfect position for her, she just knows it. But she knows it won't be the same without her other half.

"It's not me I'm worried about," Fitz mutters, "what if you get in danger?"

"Oh, Fitz," Simmons smiles at him, feeling thoroughly touched. For his somewhat grouchy exterior, Fitz was rather sweet. "This is why we'll go together, right?"

"We'd be fools to go into field work," Fitz says obstinately, and Simmons feels a stab of annoyance. Field work was for brave, brave people who risked their lives to help others. Something Simmons aspired to be like, unlike Fitz who ,despite all his potential, was perfectly content being in a small, secluded lab.

"We'd be _fools_ to pass this one up! It would be the perfect opportunity for us to see the world," she retorts irritably.

"What's wrong with being safe in a lab?" Fitz replies - and oh no, now he's getting riled up. She should stop, but she can't stop herself. Can't he understand that this is her goal? Her ultimate aspiration? To help others, to see the world? "Is it too simple for the likes of you?"

"No.." Simmons shakes her head quickly at him. "No, Fitz, I would never. It's just.."

"I understand," Fitz says, his voice rising louder with every word, until he's practically shouting at her. Other park-goers are staring, but that's not the matter. Simmons dully notices that his accent becomes stronger when he's emotional. "You want to see the world, to do better things. Leave poor Fitz's ideas and dreams behind."

They're both on their feet now, breathing heavily, and oh, Simmons has never even considered his own hopes. She immediately feels selfish, and reaches out a hand to him. Fitz backs away from her, shaking his head.

"No, it's okay, Simmons. Why don't you just leave poor Fitzy to deal with his own problems."

"Maybe- maybe I will," she shouts suddenly.

"Maybe you will!" Fitz promptly gathers up his things and leaves.

Simmons thinks she's to angry to cry, but she curls up and sobs in a park, alone.

...

The next day is different. Simmons uses make-up to cover up her red-rimmed eyes, but that morning, staring into the mirror at her forlorn expression, Jemma Simmons decides that she _will_ go into the field. Not for her pride, but to help all those people. Can't Fitz understand? All she wants to do is help. That's all she's ever wanted to do, even when she was still in her primary school days. Simmons isn't good at handling situations head on, but she excels at preparation. And she's planned her life out perfectly in front of her. Until now, Fitz had always been a part of that plan.

She sees Fitz that day, of course. It's physically impossible to avoid him when they share classes and are paired together for almost everything. Simmons thinks the professors did it on purpose. Even they had known FitzSimmons were going to take on the world together.

Maybe not so much.

They don't speak - or at least, not properly. Only strictly work related things, or bland requests to move aside, or pass the desired object. Simmons misses it. She wants to apologise, but something stops her. Field work is her dream. She can't - she won't give it up for the world. And Fitz is most certainly at least half of her world.

She sees a sign broadcasting for field assessments in approximately one week, and Jemma Simmons does something she doesn't think she's ever done before. She visits the gym.

...

It's four days before the big assessment, and Simmons is returning from her second evening at the gym. A few hours of using the treadmill and light jogging tell her just how out of shape she is.

She's making her way back to her dorm when she sees a familiar figure staring at her in curiosity.

"Where were you?" It's the first proper thing he's said to her in days, and she almost laughs at his words. She realises that on a normal day, this was the time they would have been working in the lab. In fact, she notices the familiar way his hair is ruffled after he uses safety goggles, and the tool sticking from his trouser pocket. _Fresh from the lab_, she guesses. _Fitz hasn't broken the routine._

"The gym," she says after a pause. His expression widens in obvious surprise. She can't blame him. Normal Simmons would never have dreamed of visiting the gym.

"You said that it was too sweaty and smelly for your taste," Fitz points out, his tone strangely thick.

Simmons gives him an apologetic smile. "There comes a day when things change, Fitz. I want to reach for my dreams, do what I love. Don't you?" She doesn't quite catch his conflicted look as she politely swerves around him.

...

The day has come for the test. Simmons is nervous. She knows it's not exactly mandatory to pass, but she knows it gives her an increased chance. Extra recommendation certainly doesn't hurt, especially when it comes to SHIELD standards.

They're made to outside in the hall while possible recruits are tested. There's not many. Like Fitz said, not many geniuses are prepared to leap into the face of danger. It goes from the oldest to youngest, so of course Simmons is last. The already small group of people dwindles down until it's just Simmons, waiting anxiously outside.

While she's completely sure that this is the right choice, she's regretful. How can she ever leave Fitz? They'd only stopped talking for a few days, and Simmons was missing him unlike anything else. Perhaps she'd become too attached. That had always been her fatal flaw. She got too attached. Once ended up falling hard for a boyfriend who had proceeded to brush her off. She'd already become too attached to him, and so her world had crashed around her. It was happening again, except this time Simmons is sure losing Firz is worse than any boyfriend.

Simmons sees the last person exit, and the judges tell her they need five minutes to prepare. She's about to head in when she sees a very, very familiar mop of brown hair and a Scottish lilt calls to her.

"Fitz? Oh, I can't talk now, I have-"

"Hey." He grabs her arm, and she looks up to see him smiling shyly at her. "Wait. I... uh, I changed my mind."

"What?"

"There's no one else I'd rather travel the world with."

...

"Miss Simmons," the judges drone listlessly, barely glancing up from the table.

"_FitzSimmons_, actually."

One of the judges - a slightly older woman with dark hair - looks up and smiles wryly at that. "Do your worst, FitzSimmons."

They failed the assessment, of course. Simmons knows she could have passed if she had gone in solo, but honestly?

She wouldn't have it any other way.


	8. Sunny

**SUMMARY:** Fitz was a genius, and that certainly didn't slip under the radar. He's plucked up by Stark before he can even visit the Academy. Fitz's life is well underway, but this means he hasn't ever met Simmons. What happens when Coulson implores Stark Industries for a engineer to help at the Playground?

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Okay, so this took me.. forever. But I think it was worth it. This chapter is a beast, like, seriously. I think it's the longest chapter I have ever written, so sorry about that! This prompt was given to me by the wonderful _eckles, _who gave me the most wonderfully detailed PM on this prompt. I'm really sorry if this wasn't what you were envisioning. Part of the reason this took me so long was the fact that I kept rewriting it. For me, accepting prompts is a big deal, because I get really scared that the person in question won't like it. Anyway, hope you enjoy this! Next up is another prompt suggested to me including our favourite little hacktivist, so there are you are. I would tell you more, but... you, know. Spoilers.

Also, for people who didn't get it last chapter, the senior adult with dark hair that told FitzSimmons to do their worst was supposed to be a terrible portrayal of May.

Another side note, thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback. It makes me smile. (PS, can we please just talk about the promo for Season 2? And the deleted scenes?)

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Sunny **

"How are you doing, Phil?"

"Is it too early to say good? We're doing.. okay. Listen Pepper, we've got limited resources over here. Barely enough to do anything."

"What are you suggesting, Coulson?"

"It's a top secret facility. Don't we at least need some sort of security?"

"Keep going."

"We don't have an engineer anymore, Pepper. You know what happened to Peterson.. We need someone to fix up a security system."

"This is no easy task, Phil. We've got limited resources on our end as well. Hydra have taken a rest for the moment, but that's not going to last. We need to rank up our defences."

"That's exactly why I want a security system."

"Prove the need to me, Coulson."

"Well.. I died once?"

"I'll speak to Tony about it."

...

Fitz wasn't looking forward to this new job. Not at all. Supposedly, the legendary Agent - sorry, _Director_ Coulson had asked Pepper for a favour. The man and his team were in a secret base somewhere, recovering from the turmoil that Hydra had cast upon them.

Coulson had asked for some help. Someone to assist his team in setting up a safe security system to guard the secret base that they were in. And that was where Fitz stepped in.

_I'm Stark's best man_, he thought, smugness showing through. Although he didn't like to admit it, he loved his job. He worked for Stark. _The_ Tony Stark. That wasn't something most people got to claim. Fitz had been plucked from the Academy at a young age by the man himself, who'd claimed to be looking for a fresh, innovative protégé to work for him. Apparently Fitz had fit the bill, and ever since he had risen in his successes.

But now he was being shipped off, to some base where anything could happen. He wasn't happy, to say the least. No one had told him about what had happened to the last engineer, but Fitz wasn't sure that he really wanted to know. All he knew was that he was going to be surrounded by a group of strangers who most likely knew nothing about engineering. He doubted that anyone there would even have an IQ of a double digit. Not to mention that Fitz was young. Only twenty-seven, and one of Stark's top men. It was something he prided himself on.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Something cool, high tech, maybe. Instead all he sees when he steps from the plane was a plane cargo, and a fierce looking woman that was no doubt intimidating. Beside her was a cheerful looking man in a suit, with a lanyard clutched in his hands.

"Fitz?" The woman asks, raising an eyebrow at him in question. Fitz moves the bag on his back with a small shrug.

"Yeah. That's me."

"We've got a bunker waiting for you, but first," the man grins at Fitz cheerfully, unfolding his hands from behind his back. "How do you feel about going to visit Director Coulson?"

...

Director Coulson looked exactly like Pepper had described him as. Friendly seeming, but with a commanding air about him. They were in some sort of office. It seemed reasonable enough, although nothing like the technology back at Stark Industries. Then again, nothing could really compare to the Stark Industries.

The woman and that friendly looking man were standing behind Coulson, seeming almost ready to leap into action at any minute.

"Hello, Fitz. Do you know who I am?"

_Know who you are? You're the bloody director, of course I know who you are._ But he kept his mouth shut, instead nodding dutifully at Coulson. "Yeah."

"Agent Leopold Fitz, aged 27, with various PhD's and current worker for Tony Stark, underneath Pepper Pott's supervision?" Coulson peers at the sheet, reading off it loosely. "Impressive."

Fitz shrugs at him. "Stark took me under his wing."

"That's not something that happens often," Coulson muses. "Anyway, let's introduce you to everyone. Agent May, and Agent Koenig. You won't seem them around much, they're not working under the same division as you. You'll have a partner for that."

"A partner?" The word seems funny in his mouth. Leopold Fitz hasn't had a partner since primary school, and he wasn't exactly a sociable young man. He was solitary, and he preferred to work alone. Fitz was starting to hate this trip more and more.

"Yeah. You'll meet Agent Simmons when you get there." _Oh, just fantastic. He'll probably be on and on at me about my way of doing things,_ Fitz grumbles inwardly, but he nods obediently at Coulson. Wouldn't want to upset the director, now would he?

(Although maybe that would send him home quicker.)

...

The Playground isn't undersized, that's a plain fact. Fitz had been given a day to get settled in, and he'd spent most of his day wandering around, peeking at the various rooms and generally getting himself familiarised with the area, and he hadn't yet found the end of it. He hadn't wanted to, of course. He was only doing it because Pepper had suggested it.

The cheerful man from the other day - Agent Koenig - leads him down the various hallways, and before he knows it he's saying goodbye to him and reaching for the door handle.

He doesn't notice her at first. He's too busy taking in the lab. It's fairly average. Clean, sterile and neatly kept. There's nothing fancy about it, but maybe that's just because he's been around Stark's labs too much. Then he notices the woman. She could possibly be described as pretty, with light brown hair and a wide smile. She's wearing a lab coat and a pair of goggles are strapped on her head.

She smiles widely at him, tugging rubber gloves off her hands and walking over to him. She sticks out her hand and grins so widely that Fitz almost feels nauseous.

"Hello!" She's clearly waiting for him to shake her hand, but he doesn't, only frowning at the woman in confusion. She's got a British accent - something which he's surprised by. Most of the people he's met so far have been American. Instead of comforting him, it almost irked him. Now she was going to think that she was equal to him. _Good luck with that, _he snorts to himself. Fitz has never quite found someone who was at his level for his age.

"Who are you?"

She looks surprised, tilting her head almost comically at him. "Didn't they tell you that I would be here? I'm Simmons."

_Agent Simmons? _This_ is the person they want me to work with? Oh, hell.. _Fitz can already tell that he's going to dislike this woman's cheerful attitude. "I thought you were a bloke," he mutters in response, and he's surprised when Simmons laughs.

"Well, you're stuck with me, I'm afraid. Leopold, right?"

"Fitz," he responds, crinkling his nose in distaste. The one thing he regretted about his mother. Out of all the possible choices, she'd just had to have gone and named him bloody _Leopold_. Besides, he feels uncomfortable with sharing his first name with this woman - Simmons. It seemed strangely close for having just met her. "Jus' Fitz," he adds.

"You can call me Simmons, then," she says, eyes crinkling at him warmly. Everything about her screams optimistic, and Fitz almost sighs out loud. Trust his luck to be stuck with some 'the glass is half full' type.

(He wishes for the millionth time that he had never fallen for Pepper's persuasion.)

...

Fitz can feel her staring at him. It unnerves him, even though he's positive that she's just trying to be friendly. He was trying to fix up the systems and do his job quickly so that he can return home. Somehow, he doesn't think he'll be seeing Stark Industries for a long time. He was having to start from scratch, with barely any of the proper equipment that he needed. It was going to be difficult, but then again, Fitz wasn't a genius for nothing.

"What's it like?" Fitz briefly looks up to Simmons as she asks the question. She's working on something across the lab from him, but that doesn't stop her from occasionally asking questions about him, each with the same uncomfortable cheerfulness. "Working at Stark Industries, that is."

He shrugs at her, not particuarly interested in starting a conversation. Fitz had always been a bit of a loner, honestly. Kept to himself and his designs, working busily away in the labs while most were out partying. He had scored himself a top job while many were still studying and attempting to figure out what they were going to make of their lives. Fitz was solitary, and that was the way he liked it. By himself, he knew exactly what he needed and exactly when to do it. No one could bother him, or question him. But now he was stuck being bothered by this 'bio-chemist'. He had never liked bio-chemists. They thought they knew everything about engineering, although all they did was dissect things - ugh, the horror.

"Good, I guess," he responds, bending down over his work. He's startled when a figure pops up beside him, and it's Simmons, peering over his shoulder at his work like she's known him for all her life.

"Working on the systems?"

"That's what I'm here for," he replies in irritation.

"What are you doing at the moment?" Simmons asks innocently, not seeming at all disturbed by his annoyed tone.

"I'm trying to fix the power," Fitz explains, attempting to make his words simpler for the bio-chemist. No doubt she would have no idea what he was talking about. "But the wire's been frayed on the far end, so I'm goin' to have to-"

"-route it back to the main generator. Oh, yes, that'll be a chore, won't it?" She's smiling at him, but he can't reply. Did she just finish his sentence? She was a bio-chemist, not an engineer. She wasn't supposed to be at the same level as him.

He narrows his eyes suspiciously at her. "Are you sure you're a bio-chemist?"

"What? Of course I am," Simmons nods, looking surprised. "I graduated early and went into field work as soon as I was eligible. I was paired with Peterson, but.." Her eyes darken, and her smile becomes thinner. She turns away, chattering about something that Fitz doesn't particularly care about.

(He wonders who Peterson is, and what happened to him.)

...

He's on his seventh day - or more accurately, night - of being stuck with Simmons and her infuriating optimism. He tries his best to steer away from him, but she always seems to find some way of striking up a conversation. He's sitting by the inside pool - yes, the base even has a pool - with his legs dipped in the water. Compared to where he had previously been, the base was too hot for what he was used to, although everyone else seemed accustomed to it. It didn't help that Fitz had packed sweaters and ties for him to wear during his trip.

He's just thinking about Tony and Pepper when he can feel someone watching him. Even before he turns around, he guesses it's Simmons. He's right, she's standing there, looking like she was fresh from the lab. The thought strikes Fitz that in all his seven days, he hasn't seen Simmons without her lab coat. He finds it weird. Fitz almost prefers that she keep her lab coat on.

She smiles at him, but makes no attempt to come closer, something Fitz is relieved about.

"Enjoying the pool?"

"Yeah," Fitz shrugs. He guesses it's nice, but he isn't really there for the pool. He had never been much of a swimmer, even when he was little. He took all the customary swimming lessons as a child, but after that had stopped completely.

"It's quiet here, isn't it?" Simmons ventures politely, and Fitz only nods in response. He was tempted to add that there was next to no one in the base anyway, but he refrained himself from it.

She moves forward until she's sitting next to him, although they're still a distance away from each other. Still, Fitz feels uncomfortable. Why is she being so friendly? He asks her this, and she smiles at him.

"It doesn't hurt to be friendly, right?" _It might, _he thinks. "I was assigned to be your partner. We'll work together better if we can get along, right?"

"Not really," Fitz says without thinking. He almost feels guilty when he sees her disappointed expression, but continues bluntly anyway. "We could each do our own part. Solo."

"I suppose you're right."

(He doesn't hear again from her that night.)

...

Fitz had hoped that Simmons would take a hint from the night before, but the chipper scientist payed no heed to his words. She was still as sociable as ever - something which Fitz wasn't particularly enjoying. It was a calm (well, calm as it ever got working in a secret base) Thursday evening, and Fitz and Simmons were working away in the lab.

"How are you going, Fitz?" Simmons asks curiously, moving forward to check on him. Fitz resists the urge to swat her away and shrugs instead. Truth be told, he wasn't completely working on the job assigned to him. Of course he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, but he had been working on this little side project for a while now, and it was just about... _there_!

He clicked his tongue in satisfaction and held his work up to the light to get a better look, grinning suddenly, something which he felt he hadn't done since he had come to this base for Director Coulson.

To his dismay, an inquisitive Simmons peers at his creation excitedly. She briefly reminds him of a child at Christmas, or at a birthday. "Oh, wow, what is this, Fitz?"

He's too excited not to explain his work to her, and so he speaks while fiddling with the machine to get it perfect. "It's a sort of tiny helicopter. You'll be able to control it through a sort of control system. It'll be able to analyse things, search things-"

"-the perfect scouters," Simmons finishes, and again Fitz is taken aback at her ability to tell the words that were going to come out of his mouth. She seems oblivious to his surprise, instead chattering on. "That's wonderful, Fitz!"

A little bit of pride didn't hurt, and Fitz drunk it in quickly. He wasn't often praised for his work in an environment where everyone was a genius. "Yeah, well I've got to make six more of them."

"Six more? Why do you want seven drones?"

Fitz shrugs, not entirely sure himself. "It seemed like a good number."

"Seven," Simmons muses. "Like Snow White. Why don't you name them after the seven dwarves?"

Fitz shoots her a strange look. Was this woman crazy? These were a set of professional machines, he wasn't about to name them after a children's fairytale.

"It would be cool," Simmons persists.

"That doesn't even make sense," Fitz counters.

"Acronyms fix everything, Fitz," Simmons preaches, like it's an important life lesson.

"Yeah, well, I'm not naming them that." He begins to pack up, but not quickly enough to miss Simmons crestfallen expression.

"Why not?"

"'cause that's a stupid idea," he says bluntly. Simmons' eyebrows lift in something that might have resembled anger, and Fitz could feel her staring at him.

"I was simply trying to offer a suggestion for your drones, being that-"

"I'm not naming the bloody things after Snow White, alright?" He blurts out suddenly, his voice absurdly loud in the normally quiet lab. "Just.. please. Leave me alone."

(He's surprised to feel guilt for the bio-chemist when he leaves the room.)

...

Simmons has been avoiding him. He's not entirely sure why, but he has a good idea that it was something to do with the drone situation. He's sorry for making her feel upset, but he doesn't regret his words.

_Stupid woman, trying to make me name my drones after a fairytale_, he snorts to himself.

She attempts to make conversation with him, but Fitz has had enough. He brushes her off; he doesn't particularly want to talk with her anymore, her bubbly attitude irritating him. It was like she tried too hard to make him feel welcome, when he didn't particularly want to feel welcomed. He just wants to go home.

So it's after another hard day of work that he overhears the conversation. He's walking down the hall to his cabin, when he hears voices drifting from Coulson's office. Specifically, voices he recognises.

He knows he shouldn't pry - _be a good little boy_, his mother had always told him - but curiosity draws him in, and he creeps closer to the door.

A high, girly (or at least girly in his ears) voice echoes through, and he recognises it instantly as his annoying lab-partner.

"Coulson, I honestly don't think that I'm a suitable lab partner."

"Why not, Simmons? You fit perfectly fine with Peterson."

"Peterson was... different." Her voice is sadder than he has ever heard it.

"We don't have another available agent of his level, Simmons."

"Yes, and his capabilities are certainly of an amazing level, but-"

"Simmons."

"I'm sorry, sir. But I don't think it's going to work."

"Give it a few more days, Simmons."

There's more to be said, but Fitz is already slinking away.

(Is he really that hard to put up with?)

...

The next few days in the lab our different. He notices the ever so slight differences in Simmon's cheerful attitude. The way she refrains from asking so many questions. Her smile is still wide, and her eyes are still warm, but she's quieter. She doesn't mention anything more about the drones.

Fitz thought that he would like it, but instead he finds the lab is strangely emptier without her relentless chatter. Instead they work in concentrated silence, something which reminds him rather painfully of his home back at Stark Industries. He thinks he would give anything to go back.

It's a warm evening in the lab, even though the air conditioners are on full blast. Fitz finds himself sweating due to his thick lab coat, and he stops to take a drink of water. He watches as Simmons works, swabbing something in a petri dish and stowing it away in the tiny fridge that they have in the lab. She doesn't even seem slightly bothered by the heat, instead frowning intently at her work.

"Who's Peterson?" he blurts out without quite intending to, wincing as Simmons jumps and the fridge door shuts with a loud thump. He twists the cap of his water bottle uncomfortably. "Sorry, I mean. For asking." Fitz prepares to turn back to work, but instead she only shakes her head at him, a small trace of a smile appearing on her lips.

"It's okay," she assures.

"It's just, uh.. you mentioned him earlier, is all," he attempts to amend, cursing as he stumbled over the words clumsily. "And I was wonderin'-"

"Honestly, it's okay," Simmons smiles at him, straightening up and reaching for the other petri dishes on the bench. "Peterson... He was the old engineer."

"Was?"

"We were on the Bus-" he briefly wonders what in the world they were doing on a bus "-after we'd just found out about a virus that was carried on a Chitauri helmet. I was so excited, I could have found out so much.." she trails off, her voice thick, and Fitz suddenly regrets ever asking. "Anyway, it all turned to custard. I caught the virus. I tried to come up with an antidote, and Peterson attempted to help me. He caught it too. We didn't... We didn't know that our antiserum had worked. We thought there was no other option. He was so brave."

She forces a watery smile, and Fitz gives her a little nod in return, motioning for her to keep going. "We jumped off the plane. Wa- One of our team members figured out what was going on. He jumped out after us with a parachute and the anti-serum, but he could only grab one."

"He grabbed you," Fitz guesses.

"I was the closest, yes," Simmons nods, "and I regret it. If I had never suggested the idea.."

"It was your idea to jump?" He can't disguise the surprise. He hadn't pegged the scientist to have come up with that sort of plan.

"I'm a bio-chemist, Fitz. It's part of my job to care for others. That means protecting them," she says softly.

"Protecting is a job for the specialists. You're just a scientist."

It's with surprise that Fitz notices the sudden fire in her eyes. "Scientists are every bit as brave as a soldier, Fitz. Being _just_ a scientist has saved more lives than you can ever imagine."

"I'm sorry about Peterson."

"I am too."

(He wonders briefly if Simmons and Peterson had something special going on.)

...

They've somehow designated their own corners of the lab, without even speaking, or even meaning to. Fitz works on his side, alone, and Simmons does the same. They don't speak, and Fitz often finds himself thinking wistfully of home. Homesickness isn't something he's experienced before, but it's different here. Here it's strange, and new. He's not really found anyone to talk to - not that he was exactly social at home either.

It's another quiet day in the lab when it happens. A pretty woman with brown hair bursts in, tears streaked down her face and a set jaw.

"Skye!" Fitz watches curiously as Simmons drops everything to pay attention to the woman - Skye. He's alarmed, especially by the gun that drops from Skye's hand as she moves to hug Simmons.

"Simmons- Simmons, he's gone," Skye chokes out.

Simmons visibly stiffens, and she pulls back. "Who's gone, Skye?"

"Ward's gone. Broke out. And Triplett... he's.." Although Fitz has never seen this woman before in his life, he gets the drift.

"Dead," Simmons says slowly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Skye repeats. "But the place is on lockdown. Coulson needs you to come and.. analyse the body."

Simmons looks shell-shocked, but she nods dully. "Fitz.."

"I'll stay here," Fitz puts in quickly. He's scared, but he knows he can't pry, not now. Something has happened, someone has died. Simmons and Skye rush out of the lab, and Fitz is left with only his work for company.

(He wonders who Triplett and Ward are.)

...

Somehow, Fitz knows exactly where Simmons is. He's right. She's tucked up next to the pool, staring up at the ceiling. He notices for the first time that it's painted with glittering lights, in the formation of stars.

He walks forward cautiously, shuffling awkwardly a good distance away and stuffing his hands in his pockets. She tilts her head towards him and jumps, as if startled. Her eyes are rimmed with red, and there are tear tracks, but it's obvious that Simmons has stopped crying. He isn't sure that's a good thing.

She doesn't acknowledge him, instead dropping her hand into the water. Fitz lingers behind her, watching the ripples in the chlorinated water.

"I'm sorry, Fitz," Simmons sighs finally. "Do you want me to leave?"

Fitz shakes his head almost too quickly. "No! Uh, just.. It's okay, I mean- I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"No, not that," he says, startling even himself. "Just about the whole thing with the drones."

"Oh, yeah. The drones," Simmons echoes. Fitz immediately feels stupid. Someone had just been murdered, their argument was the least of her concerns. "Don't be sorry for that, Fitz. It was... a stupid idea, anyway. You can sit, if you'd like."

Simmons moves aside, but Fitz doesn't entirely welcome the idea. He's not sure she does either. So he stays put, hovering just behind Simmons.

(The artificial stars just make him more homesick than ever.)

...

Simmons is more sombre than before. He can see the worry lacing through her eyebrows, although Fitz wasn't quite sure why he had been paying such close attention. She's more determined, quieter. Still with a sunny smile, but not one that entirely reached her eyes.

He's sucking on his thumb - the damn soldering iron had gotten him; to hell with the old-school systems of SHIELD - when Simmons makes her way in, smiling at the sight of a small ribboned box on her lab workbench. She opens it slowly, and it's a badge, with the SHIELD logo on it, shining brightly. The smile on Simmons face is wider than he's seen it in the past few days, and he grows curious.

"We exist again," Simmons whispers excitedly.

"Sorry?"

Simmons looks up, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "My SHIELD ID. We were wiped from the system when we had to go undercover. This isn't the real thing, but..."

"Wait, you were wiped from the system?"

"Yeah," Simmons says off-handedly, still smiling at her new possession.

"But that's.. incredible."

"Skye is incredible. But don't tell her I told you that. Her head is big enough as it is."

Simmons doesn't seem to want to breach further on the subject, but when she leaves the room momentarily, he slides over to the ID and examines it. Her name is Jemma Simmons - a rather pretty name. Admittedly, Fitz had imagined it to be something like Daisy or Sarah. Still, Jemma suits her, somehow. Her picture makes her look younger, the way she smiles broadly at the camera. Her birthday is September 11th, which is-

"Fitz, what are you doing?"

"It's your birthday?" He blurts out, whirling around suddenly. Her eyes widen in surprise, but she gives him a small smile.

"Twenty-seven years ago, a little girl was born in the Simmons family. God knows that they didn't anticipate that this is where I would end up."

(Her birthday is only twenty-three days after his.)

...

It's the first day he's been in the lab alone. Simmons had been sent out into the field to do a forensics analyse on one of the bodies. Apparently, this Ward was on the loose, siding with Hydra. Fitz makes a mental note to enquire who the hell Ward is, and how they had been so stupid as to letting him on the team in the first place.

Fitz gets a lot of work done that day, but he finds it rather lonely. It surprises him. He'd expected to like it, as it reminded him of days back home. Home, a word that is becoming strangely unfamiliar to him now.

Simmons clatters her way into the lab late at night, obviously surprised to see him still working. "Fitz? What are you doing up so late?"

"Just finishing up a project," he answers briskly. "None of your concern."

(But a part of him is glad that she's concerned.)

...

Fitz hears crying. He doesn't like it, and he's going to root out the source of the problem. Not to help them, of course not. Just because it was interrupting his beauty sleep, is all. He tracks it down a very familiar hallway, into a very familiar lab, to see a very familiar bio-chemist.

"Simmons?" The young woman is crying over a workbench, wiping at her eyes with one ungloved hand. Fitz isn't sure what to do. Stark and Pepper had taught him many things, but none included tips on how to take care of a crying woman. He approaches tentatively, reaching a hand out to touch her on the shoulder. He's surprised, however, when Simmons throws herself against him and draws him into a hug.

(It's not half as bad as he had been expecting, and he has a feeling that her sadness has something to do with the aforementioned Ward and Triplett.)

...

Neither of them mention the night before. Simmons looks perfectly normal, and Fitz realises that she's probably covered it up with make up. He wonders just how many times Simmons has cried in the dead of night.

"Ward," he says impulsively, "who is he?"

Simmons doesn't look up from her work, and Fitz can't gauge her expression. "Just.. a man."

She doesn't say anymore, so Fitz turns back to his work. It's half an hour later before she finally speaks again. "Ward was on our team. He.. he betrayed us. He was working for.."

"Hydra," Fitz finishes, dawning on realisation. "And now he's out there, and he knows where our base is."

Simmons smiles weakly at him. "Well done, Fitz. Excellent deducting skills."

"I'm not a school child," he replies indignantly, but his mind is elsewhere, spinning through the possibilities. "What if Hydra-"

"Attacks our base?"

He nods, setting down the tools he had been using.

"We run."

Fitz has never been the best at running. But he's done it all his life. Run from his family. His responsibilities, his job. And from other people.

"Where to?"

(Simmons smile at his wry comment makes him uncomfortable. But he doesn't know why.)

...

There are people storming the area. The base is a mix of confusion, and soldiers and... war. Fitz hasn't got the foggiest idea where anyone else is. There's a high pitched scream and a gun shot above all the noise. The scream stops suddenly.

Fitz is scared. That's the only way to explain it. He's hiding in the lab, away from all the gunshots and explosions. Like a coward. Running. Again.

He's bracing himself to run out there and do something, anything when that same brunette girl bursts in, this time clad in protective gear and a gun in her hand. Skye, he remembers.

Skye spots him instantly and runs over. "Fitz," she pants. "Where's Simmons?"

Fitz shakes his head, heart in his throat. "I don't-"

"It doesn't matter. We have to go, okay Fitz?" She's shouting above everything, looking warily around. Fitz jumps up immediately, and the two race through the hallways.

(He watches for a lab coat and brown hair.)

...

They're in some sort of plane. It's big - massive, in fact. It's got a lab in it, and a shiny red Corvette. There's probably a million other rooms down further, but they're gathered by exit. There's not many of them. Director Coulson, Agent May and Skye.

"We have to go," May says. Her, Skye and Coulson are handling guns, shooting anyone who dares to come near. They don't seem to have found them yet, but it's only a matter of time.

"No. We can't leave!" He says suddenly, surprising himself. "Simmons and Koenig are still out there. We can't-"

"We don't have much time," May pointed out coldly. "They might be dead already. We can't help them if we're dead as well."

All eyes turn to Coulson for the verdict, and the man looks torn. He's about to say something, but there are yells, and there's two figures hurling to the plane with gunshots tailing them.

(He recognises a lab coat.)

...

"Argh!"

"Sorry!" Simmons winces. She's treating his wounds, including a nasty one that came from a bullet grazing his neck. May is flying the plane, and Skye is with her. Goodness knows where Koenig and Director Coulson are. They've all had there wounds treated already, so now he has to endure through Simmons treating him.

"There, all done," Simmons sets down the swab, and Fitz instinctively reaches a hand up to touch the wounded area, earning a glare from Simmons. "I'm not doing that again, Fitz!"

"Sorry," he smiles sheepishly, without really intending to.

Simmons begins to pack up, and Fitz frowns suddenly at her. "You haven't treated yourself."

"Oh? I'm fine, Fitz," she says it with conviction, but there's something false about it. His gaze falls to her left arm.

"You're holding your arm at an angle."

"Honestly-" Her sleeve shifts, and Fitz can make out a long graze running up her arm.

"You were saying?"

She smiles at him slowly. "You're smarter than you let on, Fitz."

(There's a lot of things Leopold Fitz doesn't let on.)

...

It's several weeks later, and they're back at the base. Or rather, the ruins of the base. Hydra left no stone unturned. Things had been blown up, wrecked. Fitz and Simmons head to the lab to see if anything can be salvaged.

Simmons climbs over the rubble to the valuable things immediately, but Fitz digs around for one particular object. His hand juts straight into a shard of glass, and he draws it back with a curse and continues more carefully. Finally, he finds what he's looking for and pulls it out with a satisfied smile. "There you are, Sleepy."

"Sleepy?" Simmons is standing behind him, with a curious look on her face.

Fitz gives her a smile and passes the drone to her. "Drones Wirelessly Automated to Retrieve Forensics."

(Her smile is enough to make him wonder why he had ever declined the idea.)

...

"Fitz. It's getting more dangerous out here. We... Well. You didn't sign up for this."

"What are you saying, Director?"

"Would you like to return to Stark? We're passing by in about half an hour, we could drop you off."

Fitz stops to consider it. His first instinct is to jump and cheer, and take the first chance to escape the madhouse of danger. But then he pauses. Something is stopping him. He flicks his gaze around the room. May isn't present, but everyone else is. He notices that Simmons is deliberately avoiding eye contact with him.

"Yeah, actually," his eyes fall on the drone controller in Simmons hands, "I think I'll stay."

(He's surprised to see the amused smile on Coulson's face.)

...

"Why did you stay, Fitz?"

"What?" He's sitting in the lounge, attempting to work on fixing up the drones. Simmons seems to have snuck up on him, perching on the couch and sitting next to him.

"You could have gone back to Stark," she points out gently.

"Yeah?" Fitz pretends not to look at her, but he can see her in his peripheral vision.

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Yeah, well." He shifts uncomfortably as he tries to think of something to say. "I needed someone to help me fix up the drones."

He almost jumps out of his skin when Simmons leans over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

(Somehow, he doesn't think Simmons bought his excuse.)

...

"Fitz? Are you scared?"

It's the middle of the night, but Simmons has crept into his bunker. He's not sure why he hasn't told her to leave yet, but somehow she's ended up perched on his bed next to him.

"Yeah."

"Me too." They sit in silence, and Fitz doesn't want to break it, but she does instead. "Do you regret not going back to Stark?"

"Yeah," he says truthfully, and he can almost feel her disappointment. "But- but I didn't. I'm here now. And I can't change that. Neither can you."

"No?"

"No," he tells her firmly. "I'm here now. But I think we'll make it through."

"And if we don't?"

"I don't know."

(And he honestly doesn't know.)

...

"What are we going to do?" Simmons whispers. Simmons slipping into his bunker has become a regular thing, whether they had planned it or not.

"I don't know." Three words that Fitz is sure are the most disappointing ones in all of the human vocabulary. "But.. We'll fix it."

"Together?" The word is thrown at him so suddenly, Fitz is surprised. It takes him a long while to respond.

"Yeah. Together."

(The word is surprisingly familiar in his mouth.)

...

"You should go."

"What? Simmons, I'm not leaving."

It's another morning in the mobile lab, but Simmons has got a daft idea spinning around in her mind, and doesn't seem to be accepting that Fitz isn't going to act on it.

"Fitz, we're parked right outside Stark Industries," her voice is determined, "go back in. I'll cover for you."

"I'm not doing that."

"Yes- yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

(He refuses to speak to her until the plane takes off again.)

...

"I'm sorry."

"Fitz-"

"I should have gone when you said."

"Fitz-"

"And now-"

"Stop, please." They're in his bunk again. Simmons now has a scar running down her leg. It's his fault. Not directly, but it's his fault. He doesn't want to think about it. "It's not your fault."

"It was. And I'm sorry."

Simmons has the nerve to smile at him. "Fitz.. Don't be sorry. I knew what I was getting myself into. And that was a smart move."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Fitz. You're the hero."

"You think?"

"I know."

"Because it wasn't just me, you know. We fixed it together."

"I know."

"And-"

He's not entirely expecting the kiss that comes next, but he thinks he can definitely get used to it.

(He wonders just when Jemma Simmons had stopped being an annoying little chatterbox and became the best person in his life.)

...

Somewhere in an office, Coulson smiles to himself and picks up the phone.

"Pepper?"

"What is it now, Coulson?"

"FitzSimmons is go."


	9. Intoxication and Carrots

**SUMMARY**: In which Jemma Simmons finds Skye in a very compromising situation. "Skye, are you drunk?"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: A short, sweet chapter of general good times and camaraderie. Fun fact, I originally wrote this entire chapter with May instead of Simmons, but scrapped it and ended up with this instead. This prompt was given to me by a lovely guest in the reviews some time ago, but I've only just gotten up to it. Honestly, I have about a million prompt ideas for this story, that I want to get through. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

**CHAPTER NINE: Intoxication and Carrots**

It's late at night when Jemma Simmons finally finds Skye. The younger woman is stumbling outside, with a bottle gripped tightly in her hand. She smiles upon seeing Simmons.

"Simmons! Good to see you here," she waves wildly at Simmons, a grin on her lips.

Simmons storms over to her quickly, taking in Skye's position and the drink in her hand. "The whole team has been looking for you, Skye! You can't just go sneaking off in the middle of the night without warning anyone, and- wait, Skye, are you drunk?"

"Me? Drunk? You know me, Simmons. Not a drop has passed my lips, I swear." But even as Skye says the words, Simmons can detect the slur that is showing through in the hacker's words, and she frowns disapprovingly at Skye, pairing it with a suspicious narrowing of eyes.

"Skye, you have a responsibility to this team, and SHIELD. You can't just be running off to get intoxicated," she admonishes in an appalled tone, reaching over to snatch the bottle from her grasp.

"Hey! It was only one drink."

"One drink doesn't cause you to start showing these symptoms, Skye," Simmons preaches seriously, once again using her extensive knowledge to her advantage. "Your speech has slurred, you are constantly stumbling, and no doubt your reflexes have been slowed down."

"Okay, okay," Skye grumbled, although her tone was higher pitched than normal. "Don't go all FitzSimmons on me."

"Fitz isn't here, Skye," Simmons reminds, surprised to see that the bottle had not yet been opened. She stows it away in her bag with a click of her teeth at Skye.

"You're physically linked, he's still kind of here."

"Skye, you're talking nonsense. Absolute nonsense," Simmons tells Skye firmly. Skye's slurring on about something else, but for the moment Simmons ignores her, rummaging through her bag as her phone rings. She recognises the caller ID instantly and smiles, bringing it to her ear.

"Sir?"

"_Simmons. Have you had any luck yet?_"

"I've found her. But she's in a rather.. compromising situation."

"_Is she okay? Do you need any help?_"

Simmons switches her gaze to Skye, who was very clearly drunk. She bit her lip suddenly. "Uh, help? No- no, everything's fine, sir. No need to wait up, we'll be along shortly." She can only imagine that Skye wouldn't want to be seen drunk by the team.

"_Simmons? You've got that voice again. Is everything okay?_"

"Okay?" Simmons notes with a wince that her voice is squeaky. "Pfft... Of course. Why wouldn't everything be okay? You know us, Coulson. We would never do _anything_ stupid."

Coulson clearly hasn't bought it, but the phone clicks off, and Simmons heaves a loud sigh of relief, dropping the phone into her pocket.

"Who was that?"

"Just Coulson," Simmons smiles. "Nothing serious. But first, we have to get you home."

"Simmons, I'm perfectly able to make my own way home-" It's then that Skye stumbles, and Simmons raises an eyebrow at her.

"Skye, I can assure you that judging by your actions you have consumed a lot of alcohol, and that tends to muddle up even mundane actions such as-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Skye grumbles impatiently. "I'm sorry, can we go back now?"

"Right. Sorry."

...

"It's dark," Skye titters. It's late at night, and the faint glow of city lights is the only thing helping to guide them back to the Bus. Skye is slung over her shoulders, and they're making their way agonisingly slowly back to the Bus. "Did you bring any carrots?" At Simmons puzzled expression, she adds, "To help you see better. It improves your night vision, right?"

"Well that's not entirely true, you see. Carrots hold vitamin A, and this is required for the body to synthesise rhodopsin, which is the pigment in eyes that operates in low-light conditions," Simmons chatters obliviously. "Which means, if you have a vitamin A deficiency, you'll have lower night vision. Carrots will help, but they'll only improve your vision to the extent of an average person's. The tale of carrots making you see better is rather interesting, actually-"

She's cut off abruptly as Skye suddenly pulls away from her and promptly lurches the contents of her stomach into the gutter. Simmons looks away politely, trying her best not to make a face.

Skye stumbles back moments later. "What were you saying, Simmons?"

"On second thought.." Simmons stares doubtfully at Skye. "Never mind."

...

Simmons attempts to sneak Skye back onto the Bus the quiet way. It should have clicked when she sees that the plane cargo is already open and waiting.

Simmons guides Skye gently up into the plane, holding a finger to her lips desperately whenever Skye lets out a giggle or a sly comment.

"I feel like we're secret agents," Skye whispers happily.

Simmons shoots her an appalled look. "Skye, we _are_ secret agents."

They make it to the kitchen without a hitch, and Simmons mentally congratulates herself. Even May hadn't come to observe, and the Calvary was actually like a hawk, with hearing and tracking skills to rival a warrior's.

Simmons sits Skye down at the bench and promptly prepares some tea, pulling out a box of painkillers to go with it. Skye brushes the pills off with an airy laugh, but Simmons only shakes her head.

"You're going to need them in the morning, Skye," she insists.

"Yeah, she'll have a killer headache."

Simmons whirls around with wide eyes, and like a deer in the headlights, she freezes. Coulson is standing in the doorway, and Simmons rushes to defend herself and Skye. "Oh, bloody hell. Sir, I swear, this isn't, I mean- Skye-"

"It's okay, Simmons. But I need to have a talk with Skye about abandoning the team."

"Oh, uh, yes, sir.. I don't think now is the best time, Skye is rather.."

Skye smiles sluggishly at Coulson and holds up her cup. "Tea?"

"Heavily influenced," Simmons finishes sheepishly.

...

Soon the Bus is quiet once again, and it's just Simmons now, perched on a seat by the small plane kitchen. She stifles a yawn and begins to unpack her bag. It's when she's almost at the bottom that she comes across the bottle that Skye had been clutching earlier. She smiles and moves to throw it away, but pauses suddenly.

"Oh, hell," Simmons mutters. She cracks open the lid and takes a sip.


	10. Irony

**SUMMARY**: It's ironic that after everything they've been through, it's a car crash that leaves the team worrying. Coulson's not looking too good, but Skye refuses to give up.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** A very short, rather bland piece which I'm not particularly proud of. This was suggested to me by Heretohavefun, who actually based the prompt idea off of the season two promo, in which you can see what looks to be a SHIELD van rolling down the road. Also, Fitz is not in this chapter, as he may or may not be in a very difficult position. As it is unknown what's happened to him, I just assumed that he's in a coma, and therefore cannot be present for this little trip.

And whoo, it's the tenth chapter, already! The chapters have honestly flown by! For me, my personal favourite chapter to write was probably chapter number three; Nazi. What were your personal favourites?

**CHAPTER TEN: Irony**

It happens quickly. So quickly. One minute they're driving, and the next there's a BAM and the car is rolling, and Skye finds herself upside down, her throat raw from yelling.

She unslings herself from the seatbelt immediately, wincing as her palms dig into shards of broken window glass. The adrenaline rush is pulsing too fast for Skye to register pain, but one thing she does register easily is fear.

"Guys?" She croaks out. To her relief, May sticks her head through the wreckage, although she's patterned in scratches and trails of blood.

There's lots of shuffling, and eventually Skye hears a gasp of pain. Simmons is attempting to wriggle into a better place. Skye notices with a sickening glance that her arm is twisted at a wrong angle, and she swallows. Her head spins, and she wonders mildly whether she's got a concussion.

There's a crash, and suddenly the car rocks back and forth gently, although every movement shatters more glass and creates more mess. Someone throws them self against the door, and it bursts open. It's May, and although she's standing in a hunched fashion, she seems fine. They work together, and soon Skye's been hauled from the vehicle.

She lies there for a while on the asphalt, before picking the glass from her hands and staggering back to the crash site. "What happened?"

May tugs open the door, and Skye helps to drag Simmons out. She too seems relatively okay, although her arm is twisted awkwardly and her face is pale.

"Coulson lost control of the wheel. That, or someone tampered with the controls," May answers briefly. Skye resists the bizarre urge to laugh. They've been through so much, it seems so odd to be in a situation as mundane as a car crash. The laugh dies on her lips however when she sees May's grim expression.

"Coulson. We have to get Coulson out as well."

"Skye.." But she's not paying attention to the warning. Crumpled in the car is Coulson, with his eyes shut and his breaths shallow. There's a wound in his stomach that reminds her bitterly of the time she was shot by Quinn. To think that those had been the better days.

"Coulson," Skye breaths. Beside her, she can hear May yelling for Simmons, who stumbles over. The scientist stifles a gasp and Skye can tell that she's switched into doctor mode.

"Don't move him. Let me have a look." Skye's reluctant, but she moves out of the way for Simmons to squeeze painfully in and get a better view. "Is there a first aid kit anywhere?"

"I don't- I don't know," Skye shakes her head, but May is already running to check. Skye pulls out her phone and checks for a signal. Her hands tremble when she sees the signal sign flash on. "We have connection."

"Call for help!" Skye doesn't need to be told twice; she's already got the phone pressed to her ear. "Triplett? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. What's up?"

"Listen, we need help. We're in a crash, Coulson's hurt."

"Heck, seriously? We'll get moving." He's gone before she can say anymore, and she's left with the monotone beep that signals the end of a call.

"They're coming."

"I can't get to anything without ripping the car apart," May says, kneeling next to Simmons. The bio-chemist is looking fervently over Coulson, despite her worse for wear condition. "The team will be about an hour, even by plane."

"We don't have an hour," Simmons says in a definite tone. She tears shreds from her shirt and presses it to the wound with her one good arm.

Skye set her jaw and shakes her head. "Then I'll call the ambulance-"

She's surprised when May slaps the phone from her hands with a cold glare. "We're not calling the ambulance."

Skye stares at her incredulously. She could feel the anger boiling up already. "What? Coulson's hurt, we-"

"We are working for SHIELD, Skye. Do you know what that means? Right now, that means we're criminals. We're known as the bad guys! If we call services, that means a one way ticket to jail," May hisses fiercely.

It's a long while before anyone speaks again. "What can we do, then?"

"We wait," May replies, "and we pray."


	11. Can't Pretend

**SUMMARY**: Ward can't pretend any more. Three times Ward almost told Skye about his true loyalty, and the one time Skye find out.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This chapter was very heavily inspired by Tom Odell's song Can't Pretend. In fact, the lyrics are even below. Actually, I recommend listening to it, as I am loving it at the moment. I actually think the lyrics are very fitting for Ward.

I was requested for some more SkyWard, so here we are. It's a little darker, but hopefully it will suffice for now. I hope you enjoy.

Also, we've recently hit our twentieth review! Thank you so much for anyone who reviewed, I absolutely love reading through them.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: Can't Pretend **

_Love, I have wounds,_

Everyone's having a drink. Enjoying the day, talking, laughing. Something Ward finds is strangely nice to see. Working for a dangerous agency - it's not something that tends to bring joy to your life. Especially not for Ward.

Well, everyone's drinking except for Skye. Which is odd, as he would have pinned her for the type to jump at the chance for a drink and a party. Excusing himself from the others - not that they were talking to him anyway, what with FitzSimmons explaining something heatedly to May - he grabs a bottle for himself and another for Skye, before making his way over to her with a small smile, offering a bottle to her.

"Here. Why aren't you drinking?"

Skye takes it with a wide smile, and she shrugs at him, slipping her phone into her pocket and cracking open the lid. "Thanks. And I dunno. Just not in a partying mood."

"Who are you and what have you done with Skye?" She grins at him, but he can sense that she's not quite in the mood for jokes. It's a long time before either of them break the peace, simply leaning against the Bus wall with a drink in hand and watching the silhouettes of the others.

"Ward.. do you ever have secrets? I mean, like, a really big secret. Something that you're afraid to share."

Ward almost freezes with the bottle halfway to his lips, and it results in him drinking too much at one time, almost choking. "What?"

"Sorry. I mean, it's kinda stupid. But, you know. Everyone has secrets, right? And you're not exactly an open book, Agent Ward."

Does she know? She can't know. It's not possible, he hasn't given any clues away. He's done as told, been quiet, dutiful, spoken up when needed. This girl can't possibly know what he's up to. Right? Right. "Yeah. Yeah, I have secrets." His mouth is suddenly dry, and his lips feel cracked, but Skye only nods.

"And.. and it's not bad to have secrets, right?" Skye sounds uncertain, paused in drinking for the moment to talk to him.

It's painfully obvious that something is going on, but Ward doesn't notice it, instead caught up in slight terror that she's caught onto his big secret. Skye's so close to home.. maybe he should tell her? She wouldn't be mad, right?

"It's not bad to have secrets."

"Yeah, because.." Skye's talking, but he's contemplating a painful decision. He knows it's a stupid idea to tell her, but some part of him wants to tell her. His mouth acts for him, and the word spills out of his mouth before he can stop it.

"Skye?"

"Yeah?" She's looking at him, and suddenly he can't bring himself to do it, only giving a shrug and a smile.

"Sometimes you need secrets. You need secrets to be.. safe."

...

_Only you can mend,_

It's a calm evening on the Bus - something that isn't said often. Skye shoots Ward a grin from across the table, and Ward knows that she has some sort of trick up her sleeve.

"F5," she instructs. They're playing Battleship, and it's Skye's fifth run in losing. She claims that it's bad luck, but while Ward admits that it is part luck, strategy also has a key hand in winning. Strategy is not something Skye excels well at, as much as she doesn't like to admit it.

Ward shakes her head at him, watching carefully as Skye's face falls. "What? But that's impossible, I-"

"Strategy, Skye," he reminds her, holding back a smile as Skye huffs and grumbles about the unfairness of it all. "Remember what I told you. It's like a real situation. You have to plan carefully. E3."

"You and your secrets, Ward. Why can't you just give me a clue?" Skye whines playfully, but Ward stiffens without quite meaning to. It's an effort to keep his voice even when he speaks next.

"What? I don't have secrets, Skye."

"That's not true, SO," Skye swaggers. "Everyone has secrets. B6."

Ward moves to place a white dot, finding himself averting his gaze from Skye's and instead focusing on the board in front of him.

"That's true."

"So then, Agent Ward. What's yours?"

It takes him a long while for him to tear his gaze up to Skye's. "Rookie.."

"C'mon, you can tell me."

The terse silence seems to ring in his ears, and he eventually opens his mouth to speak.

"A1."

"What? Hey! Agent Grant Ward, you did _not_ just beat me at another game of Battleship!"

...

_You can mend._

Fear. It's an emotion that Ward doesn't often feel. Or at least, that's what he likes to tell himself. But now.. now he's scared. Worried. He hasn't been properly worried in a long time.

But a special little hacker is lying lifelessly in a bed, with a deadly wound in her stomach and a low chance of survival. And Grant Ward feels fear. Fear and anger. Two emotions that combined together, are very, very bad. He's trying to be rational, and he knows Simmons has done all she can to keep her comfortable, but he's scared that it's not enough.

She looks pale, laid out on the hospital bed like she had already passed. It's quite possibly the quietest he's ever seen her. And he thinks that maybe it isn't a good thing. She's fast asleep, on heavy drugs to keep her asleep and keep the pain away.

There's no one else in the room. He's sure the team is hovering somewhere nearby, but he can't see them, at least. That's good. There's something he needs to get off his chest.

"Skye." He feels stupid and sentimental talking to her while she sleeps, but he forges on anyway because he can. Because he has to. "I have something to tell you. On the topic of secrets. You know how you said that secrets weren't bad? Yeah. Well, they are. For me, anyway. I'm not a good man, Skye. I have secrets. A secret. And I don't want it to be secret anymore."

He intended to say more, but now, he can't force himself to speak the truth. So many years of keeping his mouth firmly shut are kicking in, and he can't say it no matter how hard he tries.

"What's your secret, Skye?"

...

_I guess that's love,_

"Secrets." Her voice is cold, matched equally with her glare. For a bizarre moment, Ward wonders if Skye has been taking lessons from May. Assuming she's still alive, of course. But somehow, Ward knows that she is.

"All this talk about secrets. Do you still remember that, Ward? Or was that moment as meaningless as every other; an act?"

"I remember, Skye." It's true, he does. He remembers it like it was the day before. Which is funny, really. Not really, but Ward needs something to distract him. "You cut your hair," he says absently.

"That's all you care about?" Skye hisses suddenly, and she's taking a step back from the iron bars that separate them. "After everything you've done? You murdered Eric. Do you know who runs this base, Ward? His brother. Do you feel ashamed, you worthless-"

"Yes! Yes, I'm ashamed, okay?" He's on his feet now, marching angrily to the bars to stare Skye in the face. "You're not the first person that's been to visit me, Rookie. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I'm not sorry. Not for what I did."

"He _brainwashed_ you, Ward," she spits.

"He _saved_ me. I wouldn't even _be_ here if it weren't for Garret. You have no idea what I have gone through. I owe him _everything_. Absolutely everything. And I can't. I can't say that I regret it. Because I don't. Do you understand, Skye?"

"Yeah." He only just notices the tear tracks that stain trails down her face. "Yeah, I understand. You're a bitter soul, Ward. Bitter and.. and messed up. This guy did one thing for you. One thing. Why did you keep it a secret?"

"I had to," he growls fiercely. "If I had told anyone, I would've been thrown straight back into jail. You have no idea how hard it was."

It's a long time before she finally speaks again, and by then he's turned away.

"You were going to tell me, weren't you?"

"I owed him everything, Skye."

Her voice dips into a whisper suddenly. "Why? Why were you going to tell _me_, Agent Ward?"

_I can't pretend._


	12. Will

**SUMMARY: **Agent Leopold Fitz leaves letters to the team behind in his will. "Don't rush to meet me, will you? I don't expect to be seeing you for a long, long time."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This chapter sort of popped out without any planning. This chapter was supposed to be a happy one, but.. blame the terribly dramatic music I listen to. Hopefully you enjoyed. I was planning to have Fitz record his messages instead of an old-fashioned letter, but I think I like it better this way. Hopefully the next chapter is a little happier. Also, quotes are in italics.

P.S I can totally imagine FitzSimmons's future children finding these letters in a dusty attic and cooing over the general Fitzness of it all.

**CHAPTER TWELVE: Will **

_"We have no authority to do this. We're no longer S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. We're..."_

_"We're vigilantes."_

_"I was gonna say, 'doing this because it's the right thing to do, but... yeah."_

Coulson,

I'd just like to say.. thank you. For everything. For recruiting me and Simmons, for every single little thing that you have done for the team; for us. And I know.. I know that if you're reading this.. that you would have tried your best. You're a good man, sir.

And I know that sometimes it's hard. I've never gotten a taste at leadership, but I'm glad for that. And, don't feel bad. I know that if I'm really.. gone, than that's okay. Don't beat yourself over it.

Do you believe in heaven, Coulson?

As a scientist, strictly I'm not supposed to believe in heaven, or religion. Only atoms and particles and what-not. But you know, sir? I think.. I think that somewhere out there, there is an entity of afterlife. Whether we're reincarnated as another being, or whether we move onto a different place entirely. Whether you believe in the first law of thermodynamics. I think that somewhere.. there is a place where we can be happy again.

So please, Coulson. Be happy. You don't know how long you've got. You should know, you died once. Thank you for everything, sir. Let me just tell you that you were the best leader anyone could hope for. I wouldn't work under anyone else.

And Coulson, please look after the team. That'd be nice as well.

Fitz.

...

_"She's the cavalry?"_

_"I told you never to call me that."_

May,

If I'm honest, I don't know where to start with you. We didn't interact often, did we?

I do know that you're brave, though. So much braver than anyone else I know. You have skills that I have.. never quite seen before. Then again, I wouldn't know. I'm just an engineer who somehow got the most amazing person for a lab partner.

But sometimes, May... Sometimes bravery doesn't mean being alone. Have fun. Get out there. It might not seem like it at times, but they need you. Coulson, especially. Bravery can be paired with fun as well. But, uh, not too much fun. Simmons would go crazy if she found out.

Somewhere down there, I know you care. I hope you care. It's a human emotion. Emotions are part of human biology, right? Trust me, I would know. Years of interacting with Simmons has me with enough information to fill an Urban dictionary.

Anyway. I'd just like to say, I admire you, I do. Thanks for everything. Continue to look after Coulson. Good luck.

Fitz.

...

_"Oh, I'm well aware it's not a picnic, Mr. Save the Day."_

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"Oh, come on. You obviously get off on it; being the guy who gets to throw the last punch, who always swoops in to save the girl. And, now you've destroyed the world's most dangerous sandwich. Congratulations."_

Ward,

I don't even know if this will get to you, being that you're in jail. But they can't exactly refuse a dead man's wishes, right?

Well, if you're reading, I just want to ask one thing of you. Please.. try and apologise to the team. They'll hate you. They'll hate you for a very long time. But I think they can forgive you. I have. Only just. Just... don't go throwing people into the ocean again, yeah?

I don't know what happened with you and Skye. But you did love her, right? I think I realised that when you ask me about Simmons back in Providence.

Were you brainwashed, Ward? I hope you were. But even if you weren't... I forgive you. The thing with the pod.. don't feel sorry. You thought that it would float, it wasn't your fault. It was Garret, okay? He.. he twisted your mind. He's done something to you. No one else believes me, but.. you're our friend. You wouldn't do this to us on purpose, right?

Please. Look after Simmons. She won't want to be looked after - not by you. But she'll come around. Hopefully.

I don't understand. But.. I'll forgive you, Ward.

Fitz.

...

_"No! You do not touch that! Two semesters minimum of holographic engineering before you touch this!"_

_"All right, all right. I get it. I didn't go to your stupid SHIELD Hogwarts or whatever. I'm gonna go upstairs. And I'm gonna do my own research on my computer. My boring, old, flat computer."_

Skye,

Uh, now, don't be embarrassed, but I think I had a bit of a crush on you when you first arrived. It's a perfectly normal reaction - it's human biology, so don't.. don't be telling anyone, okay? Especially not Simmons. Definitely not her.

Well, I'm happy to say I'm over that now. You're a good friend, Skye. One of the best, actually. You're annoying, but you're fun and you're a good person. You've been hanging out with May more. You're stronger, a better fighter. And I'm pretty sure you two went shopping, because you both look like you're wearing similar clothes.

I'm not sure how much I like New Skye. But I'm happy for you, really.

Look after Simmons for me. I don't think... if I'm dead, I don't think she'll take it well. Take some time for yourself as well, though. Don't.. don't, uh, hold a big funeral for me or anything. I know that's not really an option anyway, what with SHIELD's corruption, but.. yeah.

Also. I think you're well past graduating SHIELD Hogwarts.

Fitz.

...

_"Have you even _read_ Moby Dick?" _

_"Yeah, have you?"_

_"That's not the point."_

Triplett,

I don't have a lot to say to you. I didn't like you at first. I was jealous. I thought.. well. That doesn't matter now. Jealousy isn't a good enough reason to hate someone. So, I'm sorry.

But I'd just like to say, that I admire you. You're smart, you're a good person. I'm sorry I never really made the time for you.

Take care of Jemma, please.

Fitz.

...

_"Do you remember the last time you brought a dead thing into the lab?"_

_"Oh, not the stupid cat again!"_

Simmons,

The first law of thermodynamics. Just remember that. You believe that theory? Then look for me. Look for me in the stars, the grass, the clouds.

The monkeys.

You'll never let me have a monkey, will you? I don't understand why - they're the perfect animals for research. Capable of human actions, and yet small and nimble enough to carry out basic tasks that humans have trouble with. But anyway. This isn't a report on monkeys, is it now?

I'd just like to say that.. you are almost probably the best person in my life. Whether I'm talking about being best friends, or lab partners, or.. more than that, it's up to you.

Down there in that tiny pod at the bottom of an endless ocean... we never did talk about that, did we? I don't regret my choice. If we were put in that situation once more, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. But you know that.

Maybe.. maybe you don't feel the same way. Didn't, don't; I don't know what tense to use anymore. It's hard to write from a dead man's perspective, you know?

The words are getting blurred now.. maybe I should have asked Skye to help me? It's the middle of the night - I can almost imagine you telling me off for that. Although, I suppose it doesn't matter, now does it? Not for you, anyway. When you're reading this, I'll be dead. A strange thought. It's turning into a time paradox, like the one from Doctor Who.

Speaking of Doctor Who, Future Jemma. Do I live to see the thirteenth Doctor? I hope so. Although I'm not sure I can handle another regeneration.

I'm rambling. I'll stop now. I think you - past you, that is - are looking for me. I've got to go soon. You're lovely and all, but a chore when you're angry.

So before I seal this off and sneak off to hopefully bribe past Jemma (was I successful?); thank you.

Because no matter what, or where, or who we are, it was nice to know you, Simmons. Is nice to know you. And whether we're in a relationship, or purely platonic.. thanks. Because without you, I don't think my life would be very interesting.

So there you have it, Jemma Simmons. I wrote a letter in my will, dedicated just to you.

Don't rush to meet me, will you? I don't expect to be seeing you for a long time.

Fitz.


	13. Still the Same

**SUMMARY: **"There you go again. Talking about.. things I don't know. Looking at me like you expect me to look back the same way. And I can't. I can't, Simmons!" Fitz can't find the missing memories.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This was a prompt suggested to me, asking for a darker FitzSimmons one in where Fitz was hurt.. but I switched it around a little bit. I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter should be a Skye chapter, and the one after should hopefully be one of our two favourite agents.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Still the Same**

"That was.. that was stupid."

They're in the small medical room, and Simmons is tucked up in the bed with a bullet wound in her side and a set of medical equipment strewn beside her. It's been a couple of days since she had been caught in the crossfire, but it's obvious that she needs to be kept stationary. Although Fitz is no doctor, he knows that well enough.

"It was right," Simmons says firmly, locking her jaw. It's the first time that he's seen her look so determined. Or at least.. it's the first time that he can remember. Threads and snippets of memories drift through his mind in tangles, but it all gets so muddled up, and just when he finds out how to unravel them, they disintegrate from his mind. And it's so, so frustrating. There's not a moment that Fitz doesn't want it all back. Not one.

"No, it wasn't," Fitz argues, shaking his head. "You were hurt. It could have been serious. It was serious." He's not sure why his hands shake at the thought of her being hurt, but he's gathered from snippets of conversations and accidental clues that once, Simmons had meant something important to him. He wants it back.

"Those people were in danger. Innocent civilians. They had no idea what was going on." Her amber gaze locks onto his. "There was a little boy, Fitz. Just like Ace."

Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth to say something, but Fitz can already feel the anger bubbling inside him. "There you go again. Talking about.. things I don't know. Looking at me like you expect me to look back the same way. And I can't. I can't, Simmons! Because whatever happened to me out there, it cost me my memories! And I can't.." Fitz's voice cracks. "I wish that whatever stupid thing I did to lose my memories had never happened." His breath is heavy when he finishes, and he feels the need to throw something. Anything. But instead, he tightens his fists until he can see his knuckles turning white, digging his nails into his skin.

Simmons looks like a deer in the headlights, frozen with her mouth slightly parted. They sit in silence for a moment, because Fitz honestly doesn't know what to say to her.

"Why did you jump in front? I know that it's our job, as.. as SHIELD agents," the word still felt weird in his mouth, "but.. how could you be so brave? How could you do that without a second thought?"

Simmons's eyes dart away quickly, and her words are quiet when she speaks again. "The Fitz I knew would have done the same in a heartbeat."

"I'm still Fitz. I'm still the same person."

"Yeah." But she doesn't sound quite so sure.

...

"What are you doing?"

"I'm just checking on some files. Nothing important." She says it like it's the most casual thing in the world, even though it's completely dark, save for the gentle glow of the lamp beside her and the security hallway lights that flood in through the gap of the door.

"It's half past two," he points out. "And I don't recall you being released from the infirmary."

Simmons pauses in her movements, twisting to give him a sheepish smile - something he doesn't see nearly enough, and somehow it makes his brain ache painfully. "I released myself."

"Uh, well.. I don't think that's how it works."

"I have the necessary qualifications to permit me to do that."

"It's still half past two in the morning."

"Yes," Simmons blurts out suddenly, her smile obviously strained. "Silly me. Yes, I'll go now." She gathers up the files and slips them under her arm hurriedly, returning everything back to it's normal position. She pauses as if something has only just occurred to her, looking up to meet his gaze. "What are you doing up?"

"Nightmares," Fitz admits quietly.

Simmons gives him an understanding smile, and it suddenly hits Fitz that maybe, it's been as hard for her as it's been for him. "What about?"

He pulls his lips into a small frown, trying to reach deeply into the recesses of his memory for the dream. "Something about.. Something about the first law of thermodynamics. And a monkey. There was definitely a monkey."

He's slightly scared to see Simmons tighten up suddenly, her eyes turning several shades darker as she turns away quickly and hurriedly bundles the papers under her arm.

There's something she isn't telling him, and he's going to get it out of her. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Don't worry about it, Fitz. You know me."

"Not anymore."

He catches sight of a very familiar name on her folders as she brushes past. It's his name.

...

"Who's Donnie?"

Simmons jerks back from the bench abruptly, her head snapping up to meet him. "Donnie," she echoes.

"Donnie Gill," Fitz nods, trying desperately to avoid her gaze, instead attempting to focus on the thread of wires that lie tangled on the table. No matter how much he tries, he can't get his fingers to work properly, the various tools slipping out of his feeble fingers like water. "I know him, don't I?"

"You did," Simmons admits carefully, a hesitant tone in her voice. "You knew him. It was on a mission."

"Don't.." He digs his nails into his palms as the wires slip through his grasp once again, gritting his teeth. "Don't talk about me in the past tense. I'm still the same person. I'm still Fitz. I don't like early mornings. I don't adapt easily to change. I have-"

"-an unhealthy obsession for monkeys," Simmons finishes. Fitz finally plucks up the courage to lift his head up to look at her. She's smiling, and although it's obviously strained, it's genuine. "I know you, Fitz. Maybe even more than you know about yourself at the moment."

"And yet I know nothing about you," he realises suddenly, and by Simmons's gentle look, he knows he's right.

"You'll get it in time, Fitz." He knows her words aren't entirely true, and judging by the shadows under her eyes, she knows as well.

"What's your favourite colour?"

"What?"

"Your favourite colour. What is it?"

Simmons looks surprised, but she settles down and leans against the bench. "Yellow. It's a happy colour. I've liked it ever since-"

"-I fell into a patch of daffodils on your birthday."

It's small - so terribly tiny in significance of everything else that he could remember, but her eyes shine so brightly that Fitz can't help but give her a sheepish smile.

"Well done, Fitz."

...

It's late at night, and the base is fairly silent. Skye, May and Triplett had gone off on a mission along with a few other agents that Fitz still had trouble remembering the names of. The security lights glow gently, but there's a more prominent light glowing under the gap of a door.

It's unusual, Fitz notes. He should know - he's spent more nights escaping from the pulls of sleep that he cares to admit. Slowly, he advances towards it. There's shuffling to be heard, but it's muffled and deliberate, almost as if someone inside didn't want to be heard.

His heart leaps in his throat and he pauses with his hand hovering above the door handle. What if it was a murderer? Or a spy? Should he run for Koenig and Coulson? He's about to turn tail for help, but he lingers for a moment longer. Fitz didn't want to be helped. He felt so useless in this base. Even Koenig was more help than him, and he spent three quarters of his time playing Call of Duty. Fitz was just known as the once-brilliant amnesiac who couldn't quite grasp simple tasks and seemed to distract Simmons from her work. He wasn't blind; he notices that she often drops everything just for him.

His hand gripped the handle and he twisted it, pushing open the door with a sharp shove. He's ready to defend himself (maybe he had learnt some kung-fu in his missing years?) but he's completely taken aback at the sight.

It's Simmons, rifling into a drawer with hurry. She whirls around guiltily when the door opens, and Fitz catches the quick movement of her tugging the bottom of her shirt down out of the corner of his eye.

"Fitz?"

"Simmons?" They speak at the same time, her with wide eyes and him with suspicion in his gaze. "What are you doing?"

"Oh.. nothing," Simmons laughs nervously, but Fitz sees her pushing the drawer behind her closed with a free hand.

"You're bluffing. Why are you sniffing around?"

"I was just looking for a.. for a button," she nods eagerly, and if not for the suspicion, Fitz would have laughed at her sore attempt at lying. "One of the buttons popped off my top, and I was trying to find another one."

"You don't have any buttons on your top," he points out.

Simmons winces, pulling her arms close to her sides. "Don't I?"

"I can't remember a thing about you," he looks up just in time to see her flinch, "but I can tell when you're lying. What're you doing?"

She spins and tugs open the drawer, pulling out a small bottle of medicine and showing it to him with a sheepish look.

"Painkillers? I thought you said that-"

"-I was feeling fine, honestly," Simmons defends. "But for the last few days it's just started to.."

"The last few days?" Fitz inquires accusingly, twisting the bottle around in his grasp. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Everyone was busy. I didn't want to bother them."

"You could have told me."

Silence is all that follows, but Fitz has got his answer.

"You don't like me. This.. new Fitz. I'm not the same, am I? I'm slow and daft, and there's bits and pieces missing from by brain that I just. Can't. Grasp. You can't handle it anymore, can you? Old Fitz, Fitz with memories is gone. Your Fitz will probably never come back. You can't stand it, can you? You're giving up."

"No, Fitz.." But the look in her eyes says it all.

...

"What are you doing?"

Simmons looks up from the bench, a smile frozen into place. "Wrapping a present."

"A present? What for?"

"It's Skye's birthday. Well, actually.. since we don't know her actual birth date, we all decided on a date that she liked. That happens to be today," she explains.

"Aren't we a bit busy to be celebrating birthdays?" Fitz fiddles with the contraption in his hands clumsily, biting his tongue whenever his fingers don't cooperate properly.

"There's always time for birthdays, Fitz," Simmons admonishes, clearing the table away with one fluid motion. "You should come along."

He shifts uncomfortably, avoiding her earnest expression. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't.. I don't even know Skye. I mean, I did, but.. I have to finish this anyway." He gestures to his work, a pathetic attempt at an excuse.

"Oh," Simmons smiles, disappoint obvious in her features. She pauses before she leaves the lab. "Well, you're welcome to join us."

...

It's a quiet evening in the lab, and Fitz can't help but watch Simmons and Skye talk through the glass doors of the Playground lab. They both look happy - an expression he doesn't see a lot on Simmons.

When she enters again, he offers her a tentative smile. "Are you two.. friends?"

"Yes. You were friends with her too, Fitz."

"Am I still friends with her?"

For a moment, they both watch as the pretty brunette laughs at something Triplett has said, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know, Fitz. That's up to you."

...

"Who is she? To me, I mean." Fitz is sitting at a table, with Triplett lazing across from him.

"What? You mean Simmons?" He raises an eyebrow, and Fitz gives a self-conscious nod.

"Yeah."

Triplett pauses for a long while, twisting the bottle cap of a beer round and round in his hands. "I don't know if I'm allowed to tell you that."

"Please. I'm tired of.. I'm tired of not remembering," Fitz pleads seriously, his hand reaching for the wires placed on the table. His latest project.. a simple little thing that he knows is child's play, but can't seem to get his head around. "I can't remember anything. I'm tired of seeing snippets of things I don't even get, the disappointed looks when I miss an inside joke. Dreams I don't understand."

Triplett leans back in his chair, setting the bottle down smoothly. "Simmons was your best friend. Your lab partner. One entity," he smiles, a hopeful glint in his eyes. "Does the word FitzSimmons jog a memory?"

Fitz tries really hard, digging into the dark recesses of his mind. His answer is disappointing. "Is it supposed to?"

"Here," Trip says finally, pulling a bottle of beer from the fridge and pushing it across the table. "You look like you need it."

"No, he doesn't." They both spin to see Simmons rushing in, her lab coat still on.

"Aw, come on, Simmons. One won't hurt him."

"It's okay," Fitz sighs. "I'm don't want it anyway."

...

"What if I never remember?"

Simmon stares curiously at him. They're sitting on the edge of the plane cargo hold, their feet dangling off the side as they stare out at the late afternoon sky. Fitz is briefly reminded of a memory, but it slips away before he can get a proper hold of it.

"Fitz.. Don't say that," she says sympathetically.

"But it's something that might happen, yeah? The longer I can't remember anything.." He looks over to her for confirmation, but she's looking away again, her head tilted to the pink tinged sky.

"It's a possibility. But I have faith in you, Fitz. You'll do it."

"And if I don't ever remember?" There. He's voiced his fears, and in that moment he finds that Simmons's eyes are full of sadness.

"Then that would be fine. Like you said.. you're still Fitz. Somewhere behind those fumbles and stutters, there's a brilliant mind. I've seen it perform first hand. Whether you.. remember or not, you're alive. That's all that matters, and no matter what happens, we'll be here for you."

"How did I lose my memory?" Fitz blurts out suddenly, because he has to know.

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Please." Somehow, he knew that Simmons couldn't say no to him.

"You were being brave. So very brave."

"I'm not brave." He shakes his head, because Leopold Fitz has always been a coward throughout his whole life.

"You're braver than you know."

"Simmons.. how long were we friends?"

"A long time," Simmons adds, and he can detect the wistfulness in her tone, and he feels guilt, even though it's not his fault. Or at least, he doesn't think so.

"And you know everything about me."

"Yes."

"In that case.. can we get a monkey?"

"What?" She frowns at him in obvious confusion, and Fitz feels his lips quirk up of their own accord.

"A monkey. Can we get one?"

Her laugh fills the empty blanks in his memory. "I'll see what I can do, Fitz."


	14. To Be Like Her

**SUMMARY: **If May can soldier through injuries, why can't Skye? - In which Skye goes a little too far in trying to be independent.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I don't know why, but I rather liked this chapter. Next chapter will be something a little fluffier - which may or may not star our little senior agents. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: To Be Like Her**

It's the end of the battle scene, and Skye is heaving for breath, staring dully at the body of the armour-clad Hydra mole. He's dead, of course. She doesn't even want to look at his ID card. It was a tough battle, but May had been by her side the entire time, and in the end they had won through.

"Skye!" Her head whips up too quickly, and she stifles a groan of pain as the world appears to spin. She raises a hand to the crown of her head, pulling it back down to see the tracks of blood that come off. Simmons is by her side instantly, a medicine kit by her side and a worried expression on her face. "Are you hurt?"

Skye's head is spinning, the world looks distorted, and her side burns with something almost as bad as the time she was shot, but a side glance to May silences her from voicing this. The Calvary is always so composed, so calm. Never afraid, and never showing pain. That was Skye's aim. She had to become more like May; stoic, fearless, amazing.

"I'm fine, Simmons," she pants, forcing a smile for the distraught bio-chemist's sake. There's an overwhelming pity for her friend every time she sees Simmons, because Fitz is lying somewhere motionless on a bed, and there's nothing Skye or anyone else can do to fix it except the engineer himself. "Go check on May."

Simmons scrambles off obediently to tend to May. Skye lets out a loose breath and ever so slightly lifts her arm up to cradle her side.

...

"You sure you're okay?"

"Damn you, Triplett," Skye frowns at the charismatic specialist. He's just returned from his own mission - a mission that he's refusing to tell her about, by the way. He's obviously noted that something's wrong, and for that Skye hates him. Her head's cleared up now and she can think clearly, but her side still burns like hell and she's honestly too scared to check the wound.

"Because I'm sure Simmons will fix it. She looks like she needs the distraction," Triplett nods over to the lab doors, and Skye notes with a tinge of guilt that Simmons is bent over some research, looking scared and terribly alone. But Skye can't tell Simmons. If she wants to be more like May, she has to start now. And that includes sucking up her injuries and not whining about it like some distraught child.

So instead she forces a dry smile at Triplett. "I'm fine, Trip. Seriously. It was just a couple of Hydra moles. No biggie."

"No biggie for May. But you're different, Skye. You've been in the field for.. how long? You don't have the skills to fight, not even after all of Ward's lessons." For once, Skye is surprised to find that he doesn't stutter and avoid Ward's name. Everyone else has been practically walking on ice around her with the subject of Ward. His name hits her like a punch to the gut, but instead of feeling depressed, she finds it refreshing. Maybe someone like Triplett is just what she needs to get over it.

"Yeah, well I handled it. Maybe I'm just getting better," she retorts quickly.

"Maybe you are," Triplett chuckles. He twists around and pulls two drinks from the fridge - some of those cheap beers you can buy for almost nothing at any liquor store -, sliding one over the table to her. "Here. You look like you need one."

"Why do you offer everyone beer?" Skye asks curiously, although she accepts the beverage with a grateful nod of thanks, desperately trying to ignore the hell fire that is brewing on her side. "Don't lie to me, I've seen you offer it to people at least four times just in these past two weeks."

"I believe alcohol is the best remedy for everything," he replies simply, his lips tilting up into a small smirk as he pops open the cap.

"Damn straight." She follows suit, tilting back her head and chugging down some of the contents. It's only afterwards that she thinks to offer a cheers. She holds out her bottle with a wry smile. "To SHIELD."

Triplett holds his bottle to hers. "To Coulson, May, FitzSimmons, and the agency we were once a part of."

"To the agency we _are_ still a part of."

"That too," Triplett smiles.

"Cheers, Trip."

_Clink_.

Skye finds that the alcohol and the good company numbs her pain, so they drink the night away, pretending not to notice the lonely figure of Simmons crying silently in the lab.

...

"Get up."

That's what jolts Skye out of her fevered dreams and into the real world - which wasn't much better, in all honesty. May is standing in the doorway, and it takes Skye several moments for her vision to stop being blurry and concentrate on the senior agent.

"May?" She pushes herself up, only to regret it instantly as her side burns like fire, and tears spring to her eyes instinctively from the pain. She bites her tongue to stop from whimpering, instead forcing a tired grin at May.

"Get up. You're coming to train with us this morning."

"Sorry, what?" She can hear the incredulous tone in her voice, and her heart does a weird skipping dance in her chest. On one hand, this is the chance she's been looking for. Skye's been trying to be more like May for so long, and here's the time. On the other hand, her wound stings like a thousand angry Hydra bees, and a tired Skye is not a cooperative Skye. "You want me to get up at.. what, two AM to train with you and Triplett?"

"It's half four, Skye. Coulson's orders," May responds, arching one eyebrow up at her. She throws a bundle of clothes at Skye, and it lands on her lap. "You've got fifteen minutes. We'll be down in the training room."

...

It takes everything she's got to pluck up the courage to look at her wound. When she eventually peels back her shirt and looks in the mirror, she visibly winces. Skye suddenly feels like throwing up.

The wound is worse than she'd anticipated. It's a ghastly graze, digging deeper into her skin than normal. Dried blood crusts the outside, and there's other horrible things that she doesn't even want to think about. Swallowing heavily as she peers into the mirror, Skye desperately tries to recall anything at all about first aid, or any of the spiels Simmons often went on. Nothing comes to mind, so she dabs at it tentatively with a cloth - cue the pain -, wriggles a clean shirt on and swallows some random painkillers that she finds in the medical drawers of the tiny bathroom.

By the time she clears everything up and applies make-up to cover her sickly expression, she's running late for her session with May.

"Time to hate-fu," she mutters to herself, gritting her teeth at her reflection.

...

"Up. Down. Block right," May spits out directions at Triplett like quick-fire, sending jabs and kicks to his body whenever he messes up or gets a move wrong. It's a little harsh, but she knows from experience that it's the best way to get it done. Now and again, she sends a glance to the door, but Skye hasn't turned up yet.

With one swift move, she delivers a sharp jab to Triplett's ribs, and he stumbles back. While he's down, she attacks again, and within moments, she's got him pinned to the floor.

"Damn," he pants, shaking his head in wonder at her. "They don't call you the Calvary for nothing."

"Don't call me that," May chides, but the corners of her lips tilt up into a wry smile. She moves her weight from his and lets him up, reaching over to grab one of the many bottles of water sitting on the sidelines. She offers him one, and he takes it with a nod of thanks. "You're getting better."

"You think? I won't ever be a Melinda May, but I think I could do well for myself."

"You'd do fine for yourself." Antoine Triplett has gradually grown on May. Of course, the man has enough charm to tame a lion, but May had been wary because of his connections to Garret. If Ward was a traitor, who was to say Triplett was safe as well?

"You spoil me, May." The conversation pauses as both take a breather to gulp down some water.

"Ready to go again?" Before she can get Triplett's answer, a very familiar person enters the training room.

"You took your time," Triplett notes, and May turns to meet Skye. She smiles and rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, well. I fell in love with my reflection." The words are definitely Skye worthy, but there's something off about her. She looks normal, her skin is healthy, but it lacks some of it's usual shine, and glints slightly in the light, looking almost like.. make-up. Her movements are slightly different, and she favours her left side more. No normal person would have picked up on it, but May was trained specially for situations such as these. She considers asking what's wrong, but she stops herself. Skye would say if something was wrong. Things had been hard on everyone lately. Perhaps everything was only just beginning to catch up to Skye.

So she doesn't comment on the fact that Skye is almost fifteen minutes late, instead setting down her water and leaning back against the wall. "Warm up. You two spar. I'll watch."

The two take their respective places, and May watches Skye closely. She knows that Skye's been trying hard, but the younger woman still doesn't have the same skills as Triplett, who's been training for a longer time. Being trained by Garret was a force to be reckoned with. May knows from various fights with Ward. _Ward_. The name sends a stab of anger through her heart, but it's gone in a split second, and she's back to reality.

Triplett waits for Skye to throw the first punch, and she does so, attempting a kick at the other agent. It falls pathetically short of him and he dives forward again to deliver a light jab to her ribs. She attempts to block, but she fails.

And then everything happens in slow motion. Skye topples to the ground, collapsing on the ground. Triplett watches with wide eyes, as if he had caused something terrible to happen. Skye began to twitch, and when May dashes forward, it feels like she is underwater.

"Skye, can you hear me? Go get Simmons! Skye?"

...

"Skye! You're awake!" It's the first thing she hears when she jolts back to reality. The voice hurts her brain, and when her eyes flutter open the bright lights stab at her vision.

"What?" She manages to stumble out eventually, blinking rapidly to see Simmons beaming down at her. Her smile is brighter than Skye's seen it in a while, but something is off. Something Skye is too tired to think about at the moment.

"Simmons?" She enquires blearily. "What happened? In English for dummies, please."

"You were training with Triplett and May when you collapsed," Simmons explained. "After further examination, I discovered the wound you had been hiding from us. It's infected, but now that I've properly treated it, you should be feeling better now."

Skye remembers with a pang of guilt the wound that she had tried so hard to hide. "I'm sorry, Simmons. It's just.. I wanted to seem more like May. Brave, and fearless. Ready for anything."

"Oh, Skye," Simmons sighs, but she has a gentle smile on her lips. "That's not the way to go about it. But if it makes you feel any better, it's partly my fault. I should've properly checked over you, but I was preoccupied with..." _Fitz_. The unspoken word hangs in the air like an ominously brewing storm cloud.

"It's okay, Simmons," she returns the smile. "How bad is it?"

"You'll be on bed rest for several days. Strictly bed rest, you hear me? That means-"

"Not leaving the bed, yeah, I know," Skye sighs, before wincing as a thought occurs to her. "Coulson's going to kill me."

"Well.. He did say that he wanted to talk to you," Simmons says regretfully, her eyebrows lifted in an apologetic fashion.

"Great. Oh, joy."

"He's just worried for you, Skye. We're all worried," Simmons replies gently. "You need to tell us about things like this. It's nice that you want to be brave, but.." she took an oddly shaky breath, "sometimes bravery isn't a good thing. Get some sleep, alright? I have to-"

"-visit Fitz. Yeah. Tell him.." she pauses, because she's not exactly sure what to tell a comatose engineer. "Tell him that I miss him, okay?"

Simmons sad smile is genuine as she begins to creep out the door. "I'll tell him."

"And, Simmons?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks. Tell the team thanks. For worrying about me."

"I'll be sure to do that, Skye."


	15. Birthday

**SUMMARY: **"This is for you, May." - In which the team celebrates Melinda May's birthday, and she couldn't be happier.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **In celebration of the season premiere, and of the fifteenth chapter, here is a slightly fluffier one, starring our favourite senior agents, because I do really love them. Speaking on the premiere, I actually haven't seen it yet, because it doesn't actually air until the 28th over where I live. So, no spoilers please?

This wasn't instead to be Philinda, but it kinda just sprung up on me. If you don't ship them, this chapter could still be taken purely platonically. Also, this is rather random, but I actually think May would be a very good mother. I think of her paragraph with Skye as a mother/daughter bonding time. I don't know, maybe it's just me.

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Birthday**

"Happy birthday, May!"

"What?"

FitzSimmons are beaming at her expectantly, looking suspiciously bright and cheerful - several expressions she hasn't seen on them in a long time. May frowns at them in confusion, but they ramble on obliviously.

"We were wondering if you were allergic to anything?"

"Yeah, because we were thinking about-"

"Shush, Fitz! Don't spoil it!"

"Oh, because _you're_ the world's best liar."

"Oh, Fitz! When will you stop bringing this up?"

"When you stop shooting agents in the chest!"

"It was a perfectly normal reaction under the circumstances, and besides, the bullets were non-lethal, you know that just as well as I do! Not to mention that-"

"No," May answers shortly, cutting both of them off mid sentence. Something resembling an amused smirk curled it's way onto her expressions as FitzSimmons snapped their heads back simultaneously.

"Sorry?"

"I'm not allergic to anything," she explains, much to the bafflement of the scientists. After all, it's better just to answer their question straight off. If she didn't, no doubt the scientists would bicker for a while longer.

"Oh. That's good," Simmons smiles brightly, leaning over to nudge Fitz gently with her shoulder.

"Yeah, because we wouldn't want you to swell up or anything," Fitz quips helpfully, looking slightly uncomfortable as Simmons rolls her eyes.

"Of course not, Fitz. Wouldn't it be horrible if she reacted to one of the ingredients in the-"

"Simmons! You're doing it again!"

...

Birthday. Happy birthday. Is that what FitzSimmons had said to her? Yes, it was. But that was impossible, no one knew her birthday except for...

"May?" She turns her head so quickly that Skye takes a step back, holding her hands out in front of her defensively. "Woah, sorry. Calm down."

May straightens up from her meditating position, turning to meet Skye with an expectant sigh. "Yes, Skye?"

"I just wanted to say.. happy birthday?" This forces May's eyes open, and she watches Skye curiously. "I mean, I just.. I know we don't talk much, and I'm not sure how much you actually like me, but.. I just want to say that I admire you."

Skye looks uncharacteristically nervous, swinging back and forth on her heels. It's a moment when May responds, but she nods her head. "Thank you."

Skye grins suddenly, and she almost seems to revert to her old self, slinging herself across the table leisurely. "What are you doing?"

"Meditating," May answers simply, turning back around and settling down once again. She closes her eyes and waits for the tell-tale footsteps of Skye leaving, but it doesn't come.

"That's cool, I guess." There's an awkward pause, and suddenly May realises that Skye's been upset lately. What with Ward, and Hydra...

"Sit."

"What?" Even without looking, May can sense the confusion in Skye's expression.

She gestures to the empty spot beside her, well-accustomed to the layout even though her eyes are still closed. "Sit," she repeats shortly. May's learned that the less talking in meditation, the better.

"Wait, really? You want me to join you and... yoga?"

"Yes," May nods, deciding not to comment on Skye's bad grammar or her incorrect terminology. For a long while, there's silence, and May half thinks that Skye's slipped away. But then she hears shuffling, and feels the presence of Skye settling down beside her.

"So, uh.. What do we actually do?"

"Close your eyes. Keep them closed. Relax. Clear your mind."

"Okay." The pause that follows is concentrated, but comforting. When Skye doesn't speak again, May cracks open an eye.

Skye's frowning in concentration, her eyes screwed shut and her expression one of someone who's dedicated to the task at hand. May can't help but smile.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Keep your eyes closed, Skye."

...

"May!" Triplett holds out a glass of alcohol to her, and she frowns suspiciously at it.

"Are you going to wish me happy birthday?"

"How'd you guess?" He smirks, and May takes the glass from him with a nod in thanks.

"The team's been bugging me all day."

"I should have known they'd spoil it," Trip grins as she swirls the liquid around in the glass.

"Spoil what?"

"You don't know? Forget I said anything," he says, brushing over his fumble smoothly. May frowns again, and she stares at him, suspicion beginning to creep its way up her spine because there's only one person in the Playground facilities that knows her birthday.

"Where's Coulson?"

The specialist shrugs, tipping back his head and downing his drink quickly. "Probably in his office. He's been busy lately, what with-"

"-yeah. I know," May cuts him off softly, because she does know. He's been working himself to the bone, and she has to admit that it worries her. They still don't know the side effects of the GH-325, and he's been on edge with her ever since he'd found out that she'd been lying. He rarely talks to her anymore - and by that she means a proper, genuine conversation. In fact, she can't honestly remember the last time she's seen him eat with everyone, as a team.

"Do you worry about him?"

"Of course I worry about him," May states clearly, shooting a side glance to the younger man. "You worry about someone you care about."

"You _care_ about Coulson?" Triplett seems smug in a way strangely similar to Skye, but May only raises an eyebrow in response.

"Don't you?"

It then that he lets out a deep laugh, and she chugs down the drink in her hands to hide her wry smirk.

"Happy birthday, May."

...

The final straw is when Agent Koenig chirps a happy birthday as she's in the middle of meditating. She leaps up to her feet and marches through the hallways, much to Koenig's confusion, storming through the doors and into Coulson's office where the man in question is sitting at his desk.

"You told them it was my birthday," she accuses heavily.

Coulson raises his eyebrows and smiles casually. "I knew you would come and find me."

"Coulson.."

He sighs and gestures to the seat on the other side of the desk. May lowers herself into it lightly, leaning forward to hear what he had to say.

"Things haven't been the best lately, you know that." May definitely realises that. Ward is a backstabbing traitor, Skye hasn't been the same, Triplett's still finding his way around, and Fitz is still recovering his old skills. It's safe to say that business was not as usual.

"Yeah," she answers shortly.

"We need something light. Something to take their minds off everything, even for a day. What better to do that than-"

"-a birthday," May realises, and by Coulson's expression, she knows she's guessed correctly. It's then that she gives him one of her rare smiles, because simple acts of kindness like this show just how much he actually cares, and it's heartwarming, even if she knows that she would never be able to think the same way. "And you're throwing a birthday party?"

Coulson only looks mildly surprised at her question. "Did FitzSimmons let it slip?" She gives him a look, and he smirks again. "Oh, yeah. Nothing gets past the Calvary."

"Don't call me that, Phil," she warns, but she knows that Coulson can tell that she's not being serious. Or at least, not entirely serious.

"Enjoy yourself, May. This is for you," he says gently, surprising her. She raises an eyebrow at him doubtfully.

"You realise that today isn't my real birthday."

"The team needs this, Melinda."

"Why'd you pick me?"

"Hey, who else can celebrate their birthday twice a year?"

"I feel old."

"That happens. Try dying first."

...

"Happy birthday!"

May attempts to look surprised as various agents leap from behind sofas and tables. There's a cake on one of the benches, and a half-hearted sign. Despite the somewhat ragged celebration, she can't help but smile. It's the thought that counts, and they certainly look excited to please her.

"The ice queen _smiles_!" Skye gasps jokingly, pulling herself up to perch on the end of the bench. Triplett pulls a stool out next to her and seats himself. Fitz and Simmons clamber from their hiding spot, rubbing at their arms and necks.

"That was bloody cramped," Fitz grumbles, much to Simmons's gentle disapproval.

"_Fitz_! This is for May," the bio-chemist reprimands, but she beams at May cheerfully. "How old are you now?"

"That's classified information." They all spin to see Coulson smiling by the doorway, and the mood seems to brighten immediately.

"It's good to see you here, sir," Triplett nods.

"The present! We need to open the present," Skye announces all too seriously, leaning back precariously and reaching under the bench. She pulls out a single present, mostly wrapped in coloured paper, and sets it onto the table with grandeur.

May almost refuses it, but then she realises the trouble that they must've gone to get it and she walks forward to peer at it.

"Don't worry, it's not a bomb," Skye laughs, but May can detect a tinge of suppressed nervousness. After such a long time of hiding her own feelings, it's easy to spot someone else doing the same.

She opens it carefully, curious as to the odd bulky shape of the object. When she unwraps it, her eyes flicker to FitzSimmons immediately. "A gun?"

"The latest, newest model of the ICER," Simmons explains helpfully. "The only one, actually. We would have made a few more for the whole team, but.."

"Resources are low at the moment," Fitz finishes, looking regretfully at the weapon in her hands. "It might be a bit scratchy to begin with."

May feels gratified that the team has spent some of their very precious scraps on her, and her lips lift up into a small smile. "Thank you."

"Oh, well. It wasn't just us," Simmons adds. "The whole team pulled it together. For you, May."

Mays smile grows wider, and she peers at the gun carefully.

"Hey, look. There's even something to recognise that it's yours," Skye points out, hopping down from her chair and striding over. "We didn't want to put your name, for security purposes, so.. we put a horse instead."

Sure enough, there's a tiny horse engraved on the side, with its mane flying loose and its head rearing in the air. Something about the way Skye puts it makes May proud. No longer is there the naive, witty hacker. There is an independent woman with intelligence. And while May misses the old Skye, there is something gratifying about seeing her become more confident.

"Thank you," she repeats again, and she's met with welcome smiles.

"But now, it's time for the real deal," Skye declares, reaching back and tugging out a pack of drinks. "It's on the house."

"Oh, yeah. Me and Simmons also whipped up a special surprise for you," Triplett grins, and then suddenly a cake is being brought out from the fridge. It's a simple little thing, white and most likely vanilla flavoured, but the one thing that stands out most is the SHIELD emblem carefully iced onto the top.

May carefully makes a point of cutting around the emblem, so as not to split it in half.

...

"Happy birthday, May."

"Phil.." May gives him a sharp look, moving back in her stool. The room is quiet, the others had gone not long ago to watch a movie. They had invited her to come, but she had refused politely. There's no point in watching with them, despite the fact that they still think it's her birthday.

"Sorry, I got used to the act," Coulson grins, leaning against the side of the door.

"Don't you have business to attend to?" May questions, mostly because she knows he most likely does. Being Director is no easy feat, especially with the current predicament. May knows Fury meant well, and that it's an honour for Coulson, but some part of her can't help but dislike him for making Coulson so busy.

"Yeah," he admits, giving her a slightly sheepish look. "But I figured that I had more important stuff to do."

"This isn't important, Phil," she sighs, but she makes no protest when he settles himself down on the stool next to her, grabbing the only remaining beer from the pack. They sit in comfortable silence for a while, before he speaks again.

"Thanks."

She gives him a questioning look, but he's staring at something May can't seem so she speaks instead. "What for?"

"For keeping the team together. I've been busy. I barely know what's happening with FitzSimmons. Skye's... different. And I still don't know whether I can trust Triplett," Coulson says in short, clipped sentences. Not for the first time, May can see the weariness tracing his features, the worry lines that have cropped up that seem to make him older.

"You don't have to worry," she begins slowly, "Like you said, you've been busy. I understand. The tram understands, Coulson. They're not going to hate you. I have your back. _We_ have your back."

Slowly, the thin lines on Coulson's line begin to fade, and he looks once again like he resembles the easy-going man he once was. "Thanks."

May only nods in return, knowing that that is enough. Coulson sits up suddenly, sliding from his stool and taking May's beer from her grasp.

"Let's go join the others for that movie."

"Phil.." she warns.

"Yeah, I know you don't do movies. But this is for the team, Melinda. They want you to watch with them."

There's a long pause before she answers, but eventually she nods. "Fine. No chick-flicks."

"Strictly no chick-flicks policy."


	16. Colours

**SUMMARY: **In which Skye asks the team what they would name their children and gets surprising answers.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Surprisingly, I really enjoyed writing this chapter and rooting through the wikis to find appropriate names. The only one I had real trouble with was May, so I had to improvise a tad.

I know that some people wanted more SkyeWard, and someone mentioned something about tattoos, so that should be coming out next chapter, as I'll combine the both of them.

FitzSimmons and Marie the cat is a nod to my fic 26, in which Simmons dobs it that affectionately, and Simmons liking the colour yellow is from Chapter Thirteen of this very story; Still the Same.

Also, I really like the idea of these guys future kids, and normally I don't do those sorts of things, but I think it'd be cool to try experiementing with what I think their children would be like, so let me know if you'd like that.

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Colour**

"What's your favourite colour?"

"What?" May looked surprised at her question, taking a brief moment to spare Skye a glance, before she turned back to something far more important - flying the plane. As per normal, the Calvary was tucked away in the cockpit, overseeing the controls and flying the BUS. Skye wasn't entirely sure why she was up there, in all reality. She had found herself milling around with nothing to do, and so she had sought someone to talk to. May had been the nearest victim.

"Your favourite colour," Skye repeated, moving forward and flopping herself down in the seat next to May. "What is it?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Skye shrugged in response. She moved to kick her legs up, but then realised that May might not appreciate the gesture and pulled her legs up to her chest instead. "I'm bored. We haven't been on a proper mission in.. forever."

"That's a good thing, Skye," May said seriously, and Skye couldn't help but nod, although she wasn't quite so sure. Yeah, missions were dangerous and all, but they gave her something to do and they helped others. What could possibly be so bad about helping others? "Why don't you go talk to Ward, or FitzSimmons?"

"FitzSimmons are busy, and Ward's been on a training streak recently. Every time I see him, he keeps pressuring me to do some more drills or to learn something new. Don't get me wrong, Ward's cool and all, but I've had enough roundhouse kicks to last my entire life," she sighed, her muscles aching at the mere thought of fighting with Ward. Last night they had trained well into the night, and it was Coulson who had stopped them from continuing any further. Lately, Ward had been getting more aggressive with his training regimes, often working her to the breaking point. Skye liked having him as her SO (she would have no other, really) but sometimes enough was enough.

"He's just worried for you," May answered shortly. "No one wants to see you get hurt again."

"It was one time," Skye groaned, rolling her eyes. "How was I supposed to know Quinn was sporting a gun and a target list?" She was joking, but the truth was that the experience had terrified her. You didn't just get shot and bounce back from it, no matter how many times May seemed to act otherwise.

"And that one time almost killed you," May returned sternly. Skye didn't respond, sobering up after that comment. It was May who broke the silence, sighing instead. "White. My favourite colour's white."

"Why?" Skye questioned curiously, everything all but forgotten in her sudden interest.

"It's a clean colour. It's fresh, it means you can.. start anew. Things can stain it and change the colour, but I think every colour uses a bit of white."

"That's.. weirdly philosophical," Skye raised her eyebrows, staring out the cockpit window at the familiar pink tinge of sunset sky.

"Okay. Next question."

"What?" Surprise made Skye whip her head to look at May again.

"Two questions. I'm letting you ask two questions. You just had your first. What's the other?"

A slow smile made her way up onto Skye's features, and she thought for a long moment, simply enjoying the safe silence of May's presence. "What would you name your children? A boy name, and a girl's."

"Children aren't on the plan," May said softly, but Skye was pretty sure she saw something that resembled a smile.

"Why not? I think you'd be a good mom," she replied, and she wasn't surprised to find that she was being honest. While May hadn't exactly been the friendliest at first, she had always protected Skye, and had always been there for her. Besides, she had heard the stories about how the Calvary had soldiered in and beat the crap out of Quinn.

"That's a third question. I only said two," May pointed out instead of answering, and Skye smirked.

"Then answer my second one."

It was silent for a long time as May thought, but it wasn't a bad silence. Skye could almost understand why May spent so much time in the cockpit. It was quiet, and there was something comforting about the way the clouds drifted lazily across the sky and the way the setting sun cast a cheerful glow through the window.

"I don't know," was the final answer.

"Come on, don't tell me you've never thought of the idea before," Skye scoffed, but the silence was all she needed.

"Pick a name for me, then."

"What about.. Minerva, after that Roman war goddess or whatever?" Skye suggested, after a few minutes of pondering. May looked surprised, but she nodded.

"I like that name."

"And.. I don't know, Mars for the boy? If we're going to keep with the Roman theme," Skye shrugged, but to her surprise May smiled.

"Yeah. I like those names."

"Minerva May and Mars May. Consider them if you decide to make babies, yeah?" Skye laughed.

"I'm not planning to-"

"-yeah, yeah. I know. But can you imagine a Mini May, helping you to kick butt?"

"Skye."

"Right, sorry. But still."

...

Skye made her way into Coulson's office without a second thought, settling herself onto his desk with all the ease in the world. The man in question looked up at her with an unsurprised look, seeming more amused than anything else.

"Get off my desk."

"Nope," Skye announced cheerfully. At his reprimanding look, she slipped down and seated herself in the chair with a tiny sigh. Normally she knew that Coulson probably would have shooed her out of his office, but recently he had been letting her off on most things. The whole team had, if she thought about it. Apart from Ward, who did the exact opposite. But she couldn't understand why. Sure, she'd been shot, and almost died. And maybe it was a good thing (she'd been able to convince May to let her sneak popcorn into her bunker the other day), but she wanted to prove that she was strong. Independent. Kind of like May. No one coddled _her_.

"What do you want, Skye?" Coulson sighed, turning back to his paperwork and scribbling something down. She resisted the urge to pull a face at the sight. Why he still bothered with paper-work, she would never understand (spoken by a true tech-gal).

"I wanted to see the old man," Skye sing-songed, adding a smirk to accompany it.

Coulson merely gave her a look, and she sighed again, propping her feet up on the desk. "Okay, okay. I'm bored. FitzSimmons are being.. sciency, Ward and May are training. There's only so much you can do by yourself."

"Why don't you train with them then?" Coulson suggested, looking back down at his work.

"Dr Simmons announced that I had done too much physical exertion already," Skye said, attempting to impersonate Simmons' accent. Unfortunately, it came out far too posh and almost wrangled, and she had to wince at the terribleness of it all.

"I'm not here to entertain you, Skye."

"Come on," Skye whined playfully. "You should loosen up a little. You can still work, I just want to ask you some questions."

"A questionaire? Really?"

"It's a team bonding thing I'm trying," Skye shrugged, giving him a grin. "Just go with it. I got May to answer already."

That seemed to settle it for Coulson, and he shook his head, working away at his desk. "Go on, then."

"I just want to ask two questions," Skye started off, pulling her feet from the table and tucking them up to her chest. "Just two. That's all."

"I already said yes, Skye," Coulson pointed out mildly.

"What's your favourite colour?"

His answer was immediate, much to Skye's surprise. "Red."

"Red? Why? Not to be, you know, morbid or anything, but that's the colour of blood," she blurted out.

Coulson raised his eyebrow at her. "Not morbid at all. I like it because-"

And suddenly Skye knew just what he was about to say, rolling her eyes and quirking the corner of her lip into a mischevious smirk. "Because Lola's red?"

He nodded as if that was perfectly normal. "Yeah." Skye decided not to comment (for once), instead leaning back.

"Okay.. Next question. What would you name your children, if you had any? A boy and a girl."

"Baby names?" Coulson's eyes narrowed, but he smiled. "What, do I need to ask who the father is?"

"Woah, woah," Skye put her hands up, shaking her head quickly. "No. Just.. no. That is.. I would _never_ do that, AC!" She paused suddenly. "Well, I did come close to it once. But, no! This is _not_ a coversation I'm having with you!"

"It's not a conversation you're going to have with anyone," Coulson said sternly. "Alright? No baby Skye's."

"Scouts honor. I would never.. seriously?" She shook her head repeatedly, trying to ignore Coulson's amused look. "Ugh, mini-me would be so hard to deal with."

"Julie," Coulson said unexpectedly.

"What?"

"I'd name the girl Julie. After my mother," Coulson explained. Skye saw then that his eyes darkened, and she realised that she hardly knew a thing about their team leader. For some reason, that made her regretful. Despite all the ups and downs, she did love the team. Strangely, they had all crept up on her. She was pretty sure she would give her life for any of theirs. She just hoped she wouldn't ever have to, but the chances were pretty slim, seeing as her life had almost slipped away not too long ago.

"That's.. really sweet," Skye mused, giving him a reassuring nod. "And the boy?"

"Roger. After Steven Rogers."

"Oh my God, you are _such_ a fanboy."

...

"H7," Skye declared, grinning impishly at Ward from behind a board of Battleship. Ward was looking at her in poorly concealed confusion, although he still played the game flawlessly (nothing new there).

"Miss," Ward announced, much to Skye's disappointment. She would never understand how he managed to beat her at every single game of Battleship. He claimed that he simply used strategy, but Skye was almost certain that he was cheating somehow. She'd have to have Fitz sweep the area for bugs later.

"I swear, if you sink another ship.."

"Alright, what do you want?" Ward's question pulled her from her contemplating in surprise.

"What?" She frowned at him in obvious confusion as he leaned back and gave her a knowing look.

"You've been avoiding me all week. I know that you're trying to skive on lessons with me."

Skye's mouth fell open, and she peered at him suspiciously. "What? Who-"

"Coulson," Ward answered simply. Skye rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Of course it hadn't been May. The Calvary knew better than to spill details like that. "Now you come to me, suddenly eager for a game of Battleship? What are you looking for?"

"Me? Looking for something? Pfft.." Skye attempted to scorn her way out of the tricky situation, but her lie soon fell flat and she sighed, left with no other choice but to confess. "Okay, it's a.. game I've been trying to do. Ask every member of the team two of the same questions. See what the answers are." She shrugged at his skeptical expression, poking at one of her ships. "Hey, I was bored. I've got May and Coulson already, so you should be a piece of cake. Please?"

He stayed stoic for a long time, but eventually he gave a brief nod, and Skye's features split into a wide grin. "See? I've got you wrapped around my little finger."

"Skye.." He warned, and Skye held up her hands apologetically, although she was laughing.

"Okay, okay, sorry. Jeez, just take your turn and win already."

"G6," Ward answered after a long moment of staring contemplatively at his side of the board. Skye gave him a triumphant smirk and shook her head.

"Nope," she crowed. "Finally. One day I will beat you at Battleship, Agent Ward."

He rolled his eyes, but moved to place a white checker in the right place methodically. Skye had to admit, she found it curious that they had such an old-fasioned version of Battleship. You'd think that a top-secret facility would have electronic board games, but apparently Fury was old-fashioned on that front.

"Okay, just get to your first question before I change my mind and make you do some more drills," Ward responded drily, giving her a roll of his eyes to accompany his tone.

"What woke you up on the wrong side of the bed?" Skye muttered under her breath, leaning back to examine her side of the board. "A8. Okay, first question. Your favourite colour?"

Ward raised his eyebrows, as if her question was stupid. "Out of all the questions.. you ask the most generic one?"

"Sorry for not wanting to delve into your whole life story, Ward," Skye replied scornfully.

She earned a sigh from her SO, and he leaned back in his seat. "Missed my battleship. My favourite colour's blue."

"Blue?" Skye stared at him curiously, plucking a white pin from the tiny pile. "Blue like.. the sky, maybe?" She teased, pleased when he gave her a tiny smile in response.

"No, more like navy blue. F4."

"Why navy blue?" Skye pressed, all while suppressing a groan. "Hit."

"Do I need a reason?" He looked skeptical as he waved the red pin at her. "It's just a colour, Skye."

"Fine then," Skye grumbled good-naturedly, all while muttering under her breath about the ways Ward could possibly have hit her battleship. "What would you name your future children? Both genders."

Ward gave her a strange look, but stopped to think over it. "Children?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "What, the robot doesn't know what children are? Come on, Ward. Even May answered."

"John. For the boy," Ward answered after a long silence.

Skye frowned, attempting to scour her memories for any hint at why Ward might have wanted to name his child John, of all things. She leaned forward and propped her chin on her hands, the game all but forgotten as she searched his gaze curiously. "John Ward. Nice ring to it. But why?"

"My SO," Ward explained quickly, his voice going quiet. "John Garret. He trained me in ways you.. wouldn't believe. Like the father I never had."

Skye felt a pang of sympathy, reaching over to thread her fingers with his on impulse. Having grown up in many foster homes as a child, she couldn't geniunely say she missed having parents. But she did regret not having them. And while she would give up anything for parents, she understood that not all parents were the loving, caring ones depicted in fairy tales and children's books.

"And the girl?" Skye pressed gently.

Ward shrugged, seeming non too bothered to come up with a name for the girl. "Melinda, maybe?"

"May?" Skye couldn't conceal the obvious surprise from her shocked tone, releasing his hand as she stared at him curiously. "Why after May?"

"The Calvary's pretty cool," Ward shrugged, looking not all too sure himself.

"Yeah, well. She's not known as the ice queen for nothing," Skye scoffed good-naturedly.

They both exchanged a startled glance when they heard a familar, "don't call me that," from just around the corner.

...

"So. What are you geniuses working on now?" Skye probed curiously.

Simmons brightened instantly, dropping her attention from her microscope to beam warmly at the hacker. "Well, actually-"

"On second thought," Skye added hastily, tugging the laptop on her lab closer to her. "That's fine." As much as Skye loved the science duo, sometimes they got far too carried away with their meticulous explanations, and quite frankly she never understood ninety percent of it anyway. In fact, she was almost certain that FitzSimmons were the only ones on the plane who actually understood the strange language that Skye liked to call 'science babble'.

They were in the lab (and by they, she meant her, Fitz and Simmons), whiling the afternoon away. FitzSimmons were working on something (she honestly didn't want to inquire what) and she was accompanying them while she worked out stuff on her laptop.

"Hey guys," Skye said suddenly, breaking up the good-natured bickering of the pair without quite intending to. "Can I ask you guys a question? Or two questions, actually?"

"Sure," Simmons said brightly, while Fitz muttered at the same time,

"Well, actually-" at a sharp glance from Simmons, he halted suddenly, "yeah, yeah that's fine. Ask away."

"It's something I'm doing with the whole team," Skye explained, deciding that maybe explaining her random questioning would make her seem a little less weird. "A.. trivia thing. It's like.. team bonding. But with me. You guys are the last ones."

"That's a lovely idea," Simmons smiled kindly, seemingly geniune. "Of course Fitz and I would be happy to participate. Well, as long as it doesn't involve anything out of protocol, because, well, that wouldn't do, and you know how easily I snap under pressure-"

"Simmons," Fitz cut her off quickly, and Skye gave her an incredulous look. Sometimes, she really did ramble on.

"What are your favourite colours?" Fitz and Simmons looked surprised at her question, but answered smoothly.

"Well, Fitz likes green-"

"-and Simmons likes yellow."

Skye gave them a strange look, tearing her gaze away from her laptop to stare at them. "Seriously? You even have matching colours?"

"It's not like we planned it that way," Fitz huffed, but Skye ignored him and gave them a smile instead.

"Aw.. that's adorable."

"Skye.." Simmons began, Fitz bumbling beside her. Skye had to stifle an amused lab, instead focusing back in the screen of her laptop.

"You guys better not pick the same answers for the next question, or I'm going to be seriously concerned. What are you gonna name your children? Like, if you ever have kids."

The lab was silent (a miracle in itself, really) as Fitz and Simmons pondered over it for a while. Skye was almost surprised. Simmons had said herself that she excelled at preparation, so honestly she was rather surprised that the scientist hadn't planned out her children already. She guessed that no one really had much time for those sorts of things when working for an agency such as SHIELD.

"Marie," it was Simmons who answered first, with a gentle grin. "After Marie Curie."

"Oh, _Simmons_," Fitz sounded appalled, and he rolled his eyes at Simmons. Skye perked up in sudden interest, slamming the lid of the laptop down and leaning forward. After all, watching Fitz and Simmons banter was far more entertaining than any viral cat video. And Skye definitely sensed bickering on the horizon.

"What? I can name my child whatever I wish," Simmons said indignantly, looking highly defensive and as she pulled rubber gloves off her hands.

"Yeah, but you are not naming a poor child after a dead cat. Or more specifically, a dead cat's liver."

"What's this about a dead cat?" Skye switched her gaze between the two in bemusement, suddenly rather confused. She could handle FitzSimmons' SHIELD Hogwarts talk, but right now she was seriously questioning their sanity.

"Tell her about the cat, Simmons," Fitz demanded, waving a lab instrument rather precariously.

"We didn't _properly_ name the cat-"

"-it's the thought that matters, Simmons-"

"-and besides, the child doesn't have to know-"

"-branding the poor child like that, how could you-"

-not to mention that Marie Simmons goes well together-"

"-yeah, well, who said that you'll keep your maiden name-"

"-fine then!" Simmons threw her hands up in the air, abandoning all the science equipment in her exasperation. "I won't name her Marie. Grace Holloway is _just_ as inspirational."

"Grace Simmons," Skye rolled the name around in her mouth, shrugging lightly. "It's not bad, I guess. What about the boy?"

"I always thought Benjamin was a nice name," Simmons announced right off the bat, sounding far too positive for Skye's liking. "After Benjamin-"

"-Franklin, Simmons, you're far too predictable," Fitz grumbled.

Skye stared at the both of them, giving a roll of her shoulders in a half shrug. "I couldn't have predicted that," she muttered under her breath, but no one was listening anyway, the both of them deciding just to plain bicker over her with exaggerated motions and harsh tones that somehow seemed affectionate at the same time.

"Like naming your child after Isaac Newton isn't predictable," Simmons scoffed.

"Yeah, well. Isaac's a.. cool name."

Skye stared at both of them, before clicking her teeth and sliding off the table. She tugged her laptop from the bench and began to leave the lab. "Well, you're officially my last victims."

"Wait," Fitz looked confused, "aren't you going to ask me about mine?"

"Nope," Skye called behind her, barely contained laughter evident in her tone of voice. "You guys are practically a married couple anyway."

...

"Where did you learn to cook this stuff, May?" Skye murmured appreciatively as she dug into the plate that had been placed in front of her. They were all gathered in the main living area, perched in front of a TV (FitzSimmons had forced Doctor Who and a communal dinner onto the team) as a team, something that was almost weird, despite the numerous amount of missions they'd all been on together.

"You learn a lot of things when you're undercover," was May's short answer, one that sent a ripple of faint laughter through the room.

The next few minutes were swallowed by the sounds of cutlery clinking against plates and the sound of British people (and was that a gun shot?) coming from the screen.

"Skye?" Simmons probed curiously.

"Yeah?"

"I know you've asked everyone else this, but.. what would _you_ name your children?"

Skye paused as the team turned to hear her answer. Earlier when she had been questioning the others, she hadn't quite realised just how hard it was to think of a good answer. Just when she wanted a good name, they all seemed to escape from her grasp. The silence was stretched for a long moment, until the perfect names suddenly sprung to mind, and she gave the others a small smile.

"Mike. After Mike Peterson." Her answer was met with approving smiles and heartfelt looks. "And the girl.. Avery. After-"

"-Linda Avery," Coulson finished, and when she looked up she found that he was giving her a proud smile.

"Those are sweet names, Skye," Simmons smiled.

"Probably the best out of all of us," Ward commented.

"You got that right," Skye grinned, turning back to the screen once more. They resumed in silence, until suddenly Skye shot up like a rocket, almost knocking everything to the floor.

"Skye? What's wrong?"

"I've got the perfect name! Natasha, after-"

"-you are _not_ naming your child after the Black Widow, Skye."


End file.
